.

Growing up is the
day you announce to the
ghosts in your house
that you are no longer afraid of them
Dying is when the ghosts
tell you their names

When I ask myself a question
that goes like
"I wonder if it was
all of those cigarettes
that helped my father
do all the things he's done"

A firefly in clenched little hands,
That burns to keep away the
night from closing in
How cold God's anvil must be
this night
How the rust on the hammer's head
could be gone but He lets it stay
And how the coal whimpers for
the breath of the bellows.

The old house creaks and I
say "It is settling"
The old door slams on its own
And I
Say "It is the wind"

My eyes close and I say
"I am tired"
I keep no more words for this day,
and in closing offer it back to
the man between me and the moon,
for he has been aloof tonight.

.