Interference / Shards

Hidden knives in the corner of a smile,
the slight curve of a saber

and there’s the the lost magic
of moments of firsts
like hearing for the first time
the ethereal whispers
of a number station at night

and you can’t drown
in an ocean of blades
for the stars they form are solid

because as you grow older,
there are less firsts left to find

as sparks dance along
the flat of a sword, a bridge
to the back of your hand

but there are still wild secrets
in the blanket folds of the aether

and the real battles are fought
behind your back,
between fingers curling, uncurling
and deciding the fate of the universe

static crackling

silently letting go of one idea
or the other, dagger or thunder

numbers —