frozen galaxy

everyone else slept on the train
on the way home from work 5:11 in the
afternoon, while i slept in a book
about the history of the world and love -
that one thing, my sufi friend says,
will heal us all. and while she recites
lines of hope, i shiver inside the body
of a white haired crone, who wants nothing
but to cry ocean and oceans of loss.

she says the galaxies go into frozen
states, smiling about how out of our control
change is. she says we have to take care
of each other and ourselves,
while two men speaking albanian in the kitchen
drill into the old wall - a new kitchen sink,
throw a dead mouse stuck on a glue trap
into a black garbage bag, half-joking
that mice are living creatures too.

no one ever taught me how to live, i am
a shadow at high noon. i am an open
and deadly wound. i consume
and consume. i am different
versions of truth, a reflection
of you, too.

so how do we live our lives
now - that we have arrived
at this knowing.