When Thursday can’t decide
if there’s many truths or just one big one;
when there’s terror in the imaginings
of the child inside all of us- a child
who still needs to be tucked in
but that’s silly so the tucking no longer
exists out loud;
when the only song playing
is off key with a full head of steam;
when endings don’t seem so awful
because it’s just our dust mingling
with other dust so there’s no real end;
when the bucket is full and we’re thirsty;
when our reach is exactly right
for what we need.