Gravitas

The overweight, overnight parts that came to me in a dream. Their clothes no longer fit, it was this that brought them to me crying, their faces twitching. That had to end. No, they said, it didn’t. So I rolled over to ghosts that couldn’t dent a pillow. The clock shed. Night pulled its burdens into harbor and I woke, glad for the day, its telltale light, its flying minute, that genie work, and the everlasting perturbations of my people, their glories, their heavy last words, and for these, I rose.