Secrets Scrawled on the Astragal

By: Brett Seaton

It’s strung together through the fibers on the back of the lost

Dreams that leave you sweat-stained and hopeful

How dare we doubt ourselves?

In the midst of our mist and making, we think to miss?

The power lines crackling with your work your thoughts your history you don’t get to be

They lie there, carried on the shoulders of wooden giants for you

Sitting in a whirlpool

White noise: the sound of the drowned

I make out the swish of our custodian’s paint brush

Sweeping beauty into cylindrical corridors

Entropy blooming like our happiness

But we cower inside don’t we?

Pull your blankets tighter around yourselves, hold those sheets tight

Good luck sleeping at night when the heat’s not right

Black sheep are eaten by the wolf

Hit me hit me hit me again

We all are just here anyway

Look out for a minute

The world is a monologue

Hot buttons and cold wars, do we need another stimulant?

Look back and tell us where we’ve been

Take it out into the rawness

Not polished till it’s flawless but a song for someone’s solace

Sing it till your name stops