good, not excellent

much
done well

good
not excellent

and yet
it is enough

shadows

on an expired license
that ran out after you left the country
you're driving along
following the curves of the hillside
warping shadows across the dashboard
sliding from left to right
i can't help but watch

we've stopped talking
listening to the music as it buzzes out
beating from a half-broken speaker
we've got more to say
but not now

i catch my own eyes in the rearview mirror
a rare moment of self-awareness
quick to avoid what i see
looking out
among the rambling, barren trees and crispy fields
watching the sadness of trailer parks
with methodical rows

we're curving back onto one another
we can move
the distance spreading out
in stalks left broken, stranded, startled
the fields of my homeland
lacing up
turning in circles
back home under the sunlight
the force of wheels
we're shadows moving

candlelight

we've waited
watched, wondered
in cold darkness
eyes adjusting
to faint shadows

candles sheltered
cupped in hands
wax dripping
sliding across knuckles
burning
lighting the way

hands interlaced
eyes aglow

chomp

i didn't understand
sitting stabbing jabbing jabbering
over pineapple chunks
why are you crying
sitting here trying
to catch up on your life
chewing, the luxury waste of disposable
cutlery cut chomp spin
your stories for sympathy
i don't understand
squelching my unease as your eyes flood
biting into the gross exaggeration
of corn syrupy pies
my saccharine lies

light is movement

I sat in the second to last row
simply because
I saw the strip of light
lining the chairs
sunlight through stained red glass

And I loved the way
when I opened my hymnal
that line covered certain words
across my hands
and through the pages
marked and noted for careful attention

And I could hardly think clearly
when the same happened
as I opened to Isaiah
and couldn't understand a word
except that all was illuminated