and whence it whistled
            from
is not in question anymore

a thespian lied through its
            horse teeth
and created a chimera

to swallow, devour,
            to turn back into
the setting sun

to let moonlight cleanse you
            and your sneakers
                        become clean

if cleanliness is next
            to godliness
then you’re a goddess, too

and if shadows measure
            time, then
I’ll find the shining glimpse of a
            distant memory

as the only forgotten glimmer
            of a false heart
                        once sworn to be true.