Photo by Katie WhitmanThere is a distance the size of bravery
It forms like words in the mouth of a baby
Reaching out for the point where all things meet
On one end of it sits an information man
Who I imagine holds down his second job as church bartender
Behind locked doors leading to the bell tower we are not allowed to see—
Sinners
On the other end of this space, I am standing like shoe polish on an overstocked shelf
Hoping that one day someone will pick me to make things better
This is not a showdown or a shootout, we are not facing off
But I can feel the rumble between dusk and dawn
As if the chance to come clean with myself will be outlawed unless I relax
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