shadow is free

shadow is free
frolics in the musty shoebox with the other shadows
their midnight whispers rattle like cards in spokes
“let us out let us out let us play
the devil is scratching his head
dandruff melts on our tongues like fresh snow”
awful weather where they live
chance of hurried flurries buries them eternally
they hold parched eyes in their palms so delicately
have to be able to see the past without turning, they say
have to be able to look back without falling forward, they ramble
one is a meteorologist, i think
his forecast always erroneous and esoteric
another a hitman
pistol-whipping his knee constantly
a few are scholars
illiterate fools clamoring on about empirical formulas

the artist
i like him

the doctor
is out

the teacher
has a heavy ruler

the nightingale
sings dirges
about loss lament let love LIVE
sit soar stand still saline SHOUT

the shadow
is free

the shadow
plummets
like lead wrapped in granite twisting turning fingers burning
weightless breathless sightless tranquil (as a summer wave)

the shadow
is free