Day 1: Sestina

Newly written, unedited and tweaked, a little rough around the edges. If you think anything about it, let me know.


So that you know the way, I will light a Candle
In the window and prepare a glass of Milk
In hopes of soothing you before you sleep. The Moon
Will be my guardian as you approach like Lava,
Slow, like an austere waltz, a soulless Dance.
Though you want to hurt me, I will wait for you, Still.

You come by land and the day is incredibly still,
Like the moments we take in breath to blow out a Candle.
You leave me breathless as you approach in a wavering Dance
After the eruption. You are a mess of spilled Milk
To me and I can’t sacrifice any more whiskey to stop your Lava
From flowing, from destroying this life I built under our Moon.

I could taunt you, brandish my a-- and show you a paler Moon,
But we are beyond childish theatrics, I hope, and you stand Still
Under my balcony, where I stand defiant as you eat like Lava
Eats, all-consuming my airs of superiority like a Candle
Eats air to burn. But you really want to Milk
This for all it’s worth, and I watch the heat of your anger Dance

Like death would if you even knew the rhythm of life. Dance,
Fool, work your p------ and moaning for all the Moon
People to see, for they won’t give a s---, drinking their Milk,
Building stronger bones than you have yourself. Still
You curse me like a hollow-boned bird, a feeble Candle
Trying to stay alight in a hurricane. The Lava

You burn is not true, it is a wasteful Lava
That knows not how to grow life after burning its Dance
Against the ocean of my resolve, dying like a Roman Candle
Drowned. It is the nature of your temper, I tell you, Moon
As our witness, that nothing will grow from what you have razed. Still,
You may enter the house you failed to destroy, drink this Milk

And sleep. Dream of rivers and chocolate Milk
Flowing from brown cows and I’ll watch your Lava
Cool from your furrowed brow. I am still
Your mother last I checked and I won’t forget this Dance
Of words we had under full harvest Moon.
I will always keep one burning for land, one Candle

For you to follow find your way back home. The candle’s milk
Waxing on the sill, white flowing like the moon’s own lava
Were it really alive to erupt, to watch us from far away, dancing so still.