there is a limit to what I can give

I have not thought about the moon in two

 

or three days

we spent most shifts together

 

talking about her, her shifts,

sips of laughter in a push through 7 or 8 hours

 

now I am alone in a room with no window

sorting out why

 

some people, torch bearers,

can do so much and then take on more

 

my boundaries like a Persian cat’s neck pouf

I tire like a sun bath, a silk negligee

 

slinking off a stool

it is time to search for the momentum

 

can I work hard enough

to make my heart kinetic, shifting

 

beat so loudly my hands twitch

and flip on the light