Poem: Collision Insurance


The word sounds like its constantly breaking open.
Undefended and exposed
like doubts that take the shape of cracks in plaster. 

Feeling deeply.
Everything slowly.
Pressed and painful.
A generous and dooming bias.
Like a moth trapped in hot candle wax. 
Flew into the flame
with no collision insurance.

on my face
in my mouth
down my neck. 

You are the one
who will wake up in the middle of the night
sleepwalking out of the door  
with your bags already packed from the blues before.

You kissed me
with no collision insurance.





Poem born from: I watched a moth fly into a candle and drown in the wax.  I couldn't save it.  It died with elegance and grace.