Am I Still a Child?
When I ask the midnight sky
the stars just shine
into the black lake of my heart.
I can only flow:
will some orpheus even give me
a lot’s wife backward glance?
Want to splash around in my heart?
Winds of a coming winter
lap at these rippled wavelets,
guiding me into a darkness
with eyes as wilted as ice-melt.
Yes – I have grown up,
light-hoard adult albedo
slanting a complicated shadow
that brooks no one’s approach.
Ted Eames, 2019