moon shadow

i have lived many lives with
a hole in my heart, once
a child, then a
saint, soon a traitor
always fumbling for
want of home

i push my hand into my
chest and feel an
open cavity, ribs and
sternum an empty cage
where it once kept a soul

and my heart beats dimly
as if the flesh were
mournful; my heart sounds
a cheap, dull drum, retired
from constant banging, weathered
worn and disused


sit near open windows in
the shadow of the moon
and fade as a ghost