Lapsed
By Chris Stolle
I ache,
dawn still a shadow.
Onomatopoeia rain,
bones breaking rhythm.
Cloudless tea,
faith swallowed by doctrine.
Tongues tie,
no one can win this game.
Scribbled memory,
locked behind paywalls.
Molecules blazing,
suspended by unanimous decision.
Uncolored vision,
waiting for darkness ascending.
Dreams colliding,
each pulled by Tycho’s Supernova.
Tarnished promises,
rubbing books for genies.
Closing love,
soft music screaming me to sleep.
Christopher Stolle has many roles: partner, uncle, son, music aficionado, baseball enthusiast, and, occasionally, writer. His writing has been published by Indiana University Press, Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, Coaches Choice, “Tipton Poetry Journal,” “Flying Island,” and “Plath Poetry Project,” among many others. He lives in Richmond, Indiana.