We Can Learn From This, You Know by Jacob Nantz
We should have seen the signs,
even as kids. I remember a night,
like so many nights. The moon split
open the sky, its silver light bursting
through a crescent gash & hanging
over us. You, just a child, tagged along.
My friends & I, abusing an evening’s
freedom, saw streetlamps & houses,
every stagnant thing appear to ripple
like a spoon’s guts over a flame’s heat.
You know what I mean. We all have vices,
& who’s to say whose are worse if we’re
all buried in the end? There is no use
in weighing afflictions. Any weight
so heavy should be shed. To survive
ourselves is to level the faults where
we often trip. We made a mess that night,
like so many nights. The black sky held
its breath, took a slow turn to blue as we
hurried to hide our secrets. The moon’s
sharp edges blurred into their new backdrop
as if to warn us: the night is not over; time is
not up but will be soon. It urged: collect the litter
together. See how your shadows, being cast across
the lawn, resemble each other, how they grow
when merged & tower into morning.