Walking with the sun behind
eyes fixed on my worn boots
as they try to find the old stride
each time they lift, this still winter light
flicks ahead under them, easy as,
like nothing’s changed
but when they fall, this light cuts,
mud grips and boots go blind

A pin
asking just enough of the taught surface
to make it give

bang-burst a gust
of shameful, baleful disappointment
snuffing embarrassed cake candles

or gush a splat of misery
to spatter snot and tears
halting high squeals on a summer lawn
as eyes look for answers