The Play's the Thing

limping monsters chasing seldom dolls. 

change simmering in their pockets.

the wind asks its questions. the answers stolen long before. 

the distance pivots. unaware of how close we were. 

the memory grins. 

its teeth shattered. its tongue missing.

the silence whispers. no one hears it.

the earnest magician has misplaced his rabbit. 

but his top hat is still heavy with tricks.

time counts its breaths. anticipating the last one. 

the miles stiffen. disregarding our lingering pursuit.

the stage is skin. the spotlight is touch.