Varlet Scapegrace

If not, we only know the lie.
Tonight, if you try for once in
your life to no longer hide from
what frightens you, its fear might just

subside. Shadows dissolve sometimes,
involve themselves with light and like
it so much they take flight. Find, if
you still can, that fragile man best

described as one abandoned by
himself. Looking in the mirror
but not seeing what horror writes
with broken fingers in darksome,

lingering calligraphy sighs
revive, signs you wipe in tandem


with criticism and judgment right
off the glass. Napalm across night
skies denies victims less asylum
than your masquerade does catalysts

for change. Jettisoning baggage
before its pain can damage might
not be the best way, the best war
to wage. Raging against what was

only sacrifices foresight,
deprives you of the present, blinds
the Cyclops of your father knives
at his gunfight could not save. Once

you stop running, when you survive
never knowing how it happens,


that you happen to be alive
gives you a new sense existence
might be alright as it is. Come
through with what you came with and trust

follows, you know this. Anyone else
would resist what you advertise
were it not for your gift hidden
in plain sight, what you pack punches

and delivers more than it tries
to mythologize with epic
promises. I can see inside
and wonder why for so long some-

one so strong would want to burn bright
in order to impress the sun.