The Runaway

No room for error
when you’ve kicked up
all the rocks that led you home.
You’re on your own now.

One by one
you knocked the stars out
until all you were left with
was a handful of gravel
and an absent sky.

It’s what you do
the night it dawns on you
that the stars
can’t do a damn thing
and you have to take it out
on someone.

Sorry for what you’ve done,
you toss the rocks into the air
and run, and when you look
back, you see them floating
up and up, into the black void
sparkling.

Claire Juno, © 2012

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