You watch the moon
On through another night and you might
Understand some things are given to us even
When we don’t ask for them
And we don’t want them but
Now it’s as if they were always only undiscovered parts of ourselves
That were silent and quiet in their waiting
Threaded through us like dark fabric
Oh,
God
Even now
The dance I do
Not with the devil because the only devil here is
Under this fleshed weight
That knows no limits
Solely because it has to
Life with it’s never ending joke, the one where
Everyone dies in the end
Thats what you
Should be afraid of now, how
God has damned me and he has damned
Even you
The difference here of course
Speaks loud enough to fill the room
Now
Understand this
That I might be a god myself
Shrouded in black, swallowing your moon
Tyrel Kessinger is a stay-at-home dad of two wild animals. Occasionally, he finds time to write things, some of which can be found at Gargoyle, SLANT (forthcoming), Triggerfish Critical Review, Toasted Cheese, and Cease, Cows, among others. He also serves time as Associate Editor for Grey Sparrow and reader for Flash Fiction Online. Twitter: @KessingerTyrel