By: Lauren Yoksh

you are like the sun:
oblivious to time’s existence
wake up at noon to eat dessert
and watch television reruns.
you are sleepless nights
and grease stained fingers
covered in cuts and bruises and scabs.
you are like the war
you were too young to fight in
and the silent ones
you fight every day
behind the shadows of your own laughter
when your daughter says something
that makes you proud.
you see it in your eyes
and wonder if everyone else can see it, too:
creases around the corners of your mouth
from a smile that has never changed,
a tightened wristwatch that you pretend to ignore
incessantly ticking, so second by second
another thousand moments gone
another memory faded
your lifetime vanishing
right in front of your sun-strained eyes.
the moon rises above your head
as you count the stars:
the same number as the night before
and the night before that.
consistency puts you at ease
while you await another day
of certain, unchanging fate.