It is midnight now – the witching hour

I am drinking honeyed whiskey and writing

in something other then obsidian ink –

so clearly whatever is haunting me now

is not you is not cinnamon or orange juice.

 

I am not sobbing about the cities we did

not get to visit or the poems you chose not

to read so process of elimination –

this is NOT about you. It will be the

storm’s prime time soon – with more

flooding and too much unnoticed magic

 

.Shortly after that it will be the

artists hour and even the things that

have never made sense to anyone

gardless of their mental state or

abilities will be crystal and powerful.

 

People will gather and revel and you –

you will realize just how much there was

to miss. You will understand the haunting

of a lingering poem and the way the

computer eats thoughts from us all.

 

And time will continue to fly by

because I have conditioned myself

to this and for all the right reasons –

no one would ever notice the cracks.

 

-M. Rene’