“Needle of Light”
There’s a room in my chest
where the wallpaper peels like old hymns.
I rent it to the shadows
because they pay in silence
and never complain about the cold.
Some nights I hear footsteps
like someone pacing the length of my ribs,
counting the beats I owe them.
I tell them I’m good for it.
I tell them I’ve always been good for it.
But the dark has a way of checking your pockets
when you sleep.
Still, morning finds me.
It always does.
A thin needle of light
threading me back into the world.
September 