THIS

there is this silence
that ships me out to sea
holds me static
and damp
in midnight fog
with no lighthouse vindications

this is me, private,
a longevity of asking
without conclusion or lucidity
my honesty for diplomatic transparency
leaning slightly towards the twilight

blessed (perhaps) with identity 
of a hierarchy of left-behinds —

my treasure 
of perfectly private persuasions 
learning every hero farts