(love) Letter To The Sun's Expiry Poem by Cailey Martin

My ears are full of clay but I
Collect secrets like stones,
Trace handprints on the wall.
One day, I and all will be nothing
But ashes in a paper bag.

The closing hour is past;
I keep my stories near, so that
They will not cast a shadow.
Empty glasses sit on coasters
As easy words evaporate.

I’d like to inscribe myself
In stars—what heavenly disarray! —
I chase airplane lights instead.
All plans are bitten bones;
My head is perfectly ensnared.

So vigilant I remain in my guard,
That shadows do not go unmarked.
I watch my feet soak.
The solar incentive brims on
And I am transfixed.