We Didn’t Have Rules, but We Had a Kind of System

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We Didn’t Have Rules, but We Had a Kind of System

This shadow is only finished
in that I’m not working on it anymore.
It holds shape. It is not an absence

of shadow the way it might be
in a downpour. This shadow is full
of the imaginary loss

of sunglasses and terrific boots.
I worked hard, letting it follow me
like a puppy all those days,

all those rickety, sun-filled days,
and it grew and it was hungry.
The shadow ate a lot.

It ate my low-rent housing
and my checking account, ate
the neighbor’s chihuahua

named Gus. I liked that dog.
The shadow ate things
a shadow shouldn’t: vertical blinds

and library books. Then it got to
tugging on my elbows,
made me wonder why my beauty-

marks weren’t actually ugly marks.
Made me ravenous, too.
Turned the clouds into

enemies. And I wondered
why we keep our shadows
on such short leashes.

They are only the contractions
of something real
and full. They are eyes

that bleed at all the wrong times.
They harbor criminals
and also small, spotted wings.