A Reckoning by Stars, poem by Sean Wiebe

I slip into the future
set up by a new goal:
by three-piece men
wearing polished shoes

but by the grace
of morning stars
I wonder where
I’ll be in years afar
and reckoning’s enough
to close the door
go camping
and leave that pile
on the computer

pulling into the campsite
bug splat on the windshield
I chew on twizzlers
for sanity
no looking in the mirror now
or over the shoulder
lest I turn to salt

after pounding deep the tent pegs
holding dreams in place against the wind
its time for water
down to the lake
I look deep
past the reflection
for a sense of what is staring back
what is there to see
except all the ants

the wind blows
across the rocks
beckoning coolness
at this moment
I spread a towel
lying in the moon
here you are
the unknown
in my living room
of rocks and ants
with your shoes
still on

yet your heart comes to mine
a dark beauty
and keeps debate
about this passage
gone far past the point
of turning back

I’m still afraid
afraid these words
like old prophecies
will come to shadows

I will write on my hands
if I have to