Mystery.

Mystery rides her waves up the sidewalk
and her stilts down the hall,
catching fireflies just to taste the release
of letting them go.
she dances with the cat,
is the cat, kitten, purring
inside the lawn mower at the hand of your father,
inside your hands,
your father.
Mother resting on a mattress in the room,
unmoving only resting, dreaming,
exhaustion,
we're all exhaustion
and burnt life cycles,
condensed cans,
routine-by products.
Love at the next door,
yearned-gravitated past months,
glints, light, move 17 months
forward, back,
"but it's ok, because it tastes as good the second time."
I am a broken magnifier,
clocks smashed, hurried to keep the lawn mower, mowing,
buzz to keep the mama sleeping,
breathe to keep the lover, loving.
Stop.
Again.
Stop.
Again.
Stop.
Again.

Snap.

Now I am the mystery.
Yet still, I cannot tell how I keep you together and all alive.