Shadow Boxing

A great fear of mine

Resides in the uneven

Angles of light waves

And the subsequent shadow

I cast not being able

To stand up to the ghost

Burns of Hiroshima. What

They have is so forever, etched

Into stone and dancing immortal

In the fire of God’s eyes.

 

My partner flickers.

He grows and shrinks

And hides, never

Showing me as is

Or as possible, but

Simply as an after thought.

 

I took my shadow out to an old

Abandoned limekiln surrounded

By choppy ocean and broad-leaf

Trees and waited until

Sunset. Using the powder

Discarded at the base, I attempted

To trace my shadow into the

Cliffs so he’d finally

Know what he could look

Like at his best.

 

Eager to not be another

Subtitle under sorrowful

Photographs in dusty,

Dull textbooks, my shadow

Left me to the darkness

With chalky hands.

Chalky hands, and the

Incomplete shape of who

I am, or will be, etched

Into stone and dancing immortal

In the breeze of the moon’s hair.

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