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.