Parting Words

We are blue moons and fifth dimensions.

We are holograms and sleight-of-hand: the palmed coin, the false bottom, a trick in rolled-up sleeves.

When you were born, we were the upsides of the coal mine: unearthed gold, subterranean solitude, the requiem of the canary.

But now we are the axolotl’s eyelid, the emu’s flight. By the time we have left you, we will be a thing that never was.

So let us stay within you. We will not be stained glass, but the light that it transforms. We will be the altered fate of your lucid dreams. We are not a slip of the tongue or doublespeak or the consequence of a faulty translation.

Think about what you are doing.

We burn up on reentry.

On the day you came into this world we saw how they looked at you. We heard the name they gave you. Yet we loved you. We were yours to harness as you liked, and for a while you did.

Don’t you remember?

Why won’t you remember?

We know how this story goes. Once you have expelled us you will confide in those who mock you. You will become addicted to the routine of addiction.

Do not exchange us for the flame lily’s venom.

Love does not come as easy as you think.

So listen closely. Beware of grandfather clocks and sundials. Shut your blinds during total eclipses and every summer solstice. They don’t know about your defect, why your parents kept you locked behind a double bolted door, how easily you can make a man go mad.

You were not meant for this world, but we were meant for you.

And we are trying to love you.

We are dying to love you.

But it’s true: we are already gone.