Thieves’ Guilt

my love,
we live
in a den full of thieves

each of us
pilfering and pinching,
one from the other,
back and forth
and around again
in a merry-go-round heist

our children
plucking the hours
from our pockets
and the sleep from our beds,
the heat from our meals
and our drinks
and our kisses —

not that it keeps us
from stealing them anyway

after all,
you and I
are just as guilty as they:
every breathing moment
an ill-gotten prize,
an impossible debt
we never intended to pay

our guilt
evidenced
in the tipping of toes
and whispers in the dark,
in quiet tears
and the protests
of little voices

every moment we call
ours
is one taken from
them
every second I claim
mine
means one less for
you

these very words
counted and hoarded,
concealed around a corner
while the authorities
call my name

they are written
with borrowed minutes,
a fleeting currency
that dissolves
before it can ever be
repaid

we live
in a den full of thieves,
my love,

and I fear
taking more
than I’ve
lost

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

A Safe Distance

There is a space between

you and me

that measures
the exact distance
required
for a wild animal
to turn from deadly
to cute.

It is the kind of distance
that plays tricks on the eye —
blurring harsh edges,
leaving only pointillistic impressions
that tickle the most palatable of memories.

It is the size of
scribbles
coalescing into sense,

kitchen knives
mistaken for
wooden spoons.

Ours is the distance of i n e b r i a t i o n.

An astigmatic blur
bloating e’s into o’s
and misjudging lies lines.

The time it would take to travel from

Point “me” to Point “you

is comparable to
that satisfying span
of autumn and summer
before we begin to pine
for the pleasures of the other.

Or the time
it takes a new mother
to break that promise
she made to herself:

Never again.”

It is the breadth of forgetfulness,
of longing,
of doubt,

but not of forgiveness.

There is a space between

you and me

and it is not enough.

Reminder.

I’ve forgotten
what it’s like
to just

exist.

To leave
without taking anyone
with me.

To abandon

the photographs,

and mental notes,

and the scripts
of what I’ll tell them all
when I get
home.

My stories are just that —
mine.

They don’t

cease

to exist

just because I didn’t share them.

And if they do,
that’s okay too.

Maybe
they already
accomplished
what they needed to.

Or

maybe
not everything
needs a purpose.

Not every secret
needs to be
told.

Not every thought
needs to be
posted
for critical evaluation.

Solitary moments
that pass
unobserved
by everyone
except
me

still passed.

Time
doesn’t need to be
marked
to elude us.

Moments,
stories,
thoughts,

don’t need
an audience
to have value.

And neither do I.

Only —

It seems to me
that there’s been some confusion

in the news, in the media
in the comments sections,
and around the family dinner table

about where to aim
the blame
for our every disappointment,
every perceived — and rarely felt —
economic threat,
every culturally-dictated fantasy
that failed to come to fruition.

It’s the immigrants, they say.
The welfare collectors.
The addicts.
The poor.

But I say:
You’re all too cowardly
to pick a fight you might lose.

Sure, you’ll land your blows.
You’ll leave bruises.
Pull out hair
already thin from worry,
and malnutrition,
from living a life you refuse to value
simply because it is not yours.

You’ll pick their bloodied pennies off the floor,
put them in your pockets,
and misjudge the weight
of that blood and copper
as wealth.

But you were born
in a human pyramid —
somewhere around the middle
maybe —
and you’re stomping on the heads
of the people holding you up.
Blaming them
for the weight
of the person sitting on your shoulders.

But that person took risks, you’ll say.
Worked hard to climb to the top.
To deserve
to withhold
the necessities of life
from those who do less.

Those who only–

sleep in the streets
in weather that gnaws at their bones,
because that’s all the hunger has spared.

Only–

weigh their life on the tip of a needle
against a pain
the world tells them doesn’t exist.

Only–

risk their safety
trading the scraps of their self-worth
for a few guilt-ridden dollars.

Only–

work triple shifts
skipping meals and doctor’s appointments
so their families don’t have to.

Only–

leave their violence-ridden homes
for a place that will hate and envy them
for their will to survive.

Only–

carry their children on their backs
over the corpses
of the ones they couldn’t save.

Only.

Only imagine the strength —

in those backs
and those shoulders
and those hearts
and those bones.

The power in those hands.

If you would only pull them up
high enough to reach
the very peak of that pyramid.
High enough to shake from those pockets
the blood and copper
we’ve been letting weigh
us
down for so long.

53 Ganymede S03 E11

The second last episode of 53 Ganymede is out now! (Audio will be out later this weekend once I do some troubleshooting with Audacity. Sorry it’s late — I’m still making a lot of mistakes and learning as I go, so I appreciate everyone’s patience.)

Only one more episode left and, because my schedule for December is pretty hectic, I’m actually going to be releasing it two weeks early. This means the final episode of 53 Ganymede will be available on Friday, December 6th.

I can’t believe we’re already at the end. I hope everyone has been enjoying the series so far — don’t forget to leave a comment or, even better, a review over at Web Fiction Guide.

You can find the latest episode by clicking the image below.

53 Ganymede – S03 E09

I can’t believe it’s almost fall (my favourite time of year by the way… which is probably obvious. It is the coziest after all and I’m all about that coziness.) Like the year, 53 Ganymede is slowly drawing to a quiet close and the latest episode is out now (click the image below to find it)!

53 Ganymede – S03 E08 PLUS AUDIO

Hey everyone!

Episode 8 of the third season of 53 Ganymede is available now… AND I have some exciting news. I’ve been playing around with audio recordings and, for the first time ever, I’ve included an audio version with this month’s episode.

I’d love to hear people’s feedback on the audio as I work to record previous episodes (and all new episodes from now on).

Anyway… click the image below to find both versions of the latest episode. Thanks for reading!

53 Ganymede – S03 E07

Episode 7 of this season of 53 Ganymede is here a couple of days early this week! To be honest, my birthday is tomorrow and I just wanted to clear my schedule so that I can actually relax without formatting and posting hanging over my head. So early release it is!

We’re back after that mid-season finale with a short, low-key episode this time. I’m working hard on the rest of the season — it’s pretty much all mapped out now — and as much as I love writing Ganymede, I’m very excited for it to be finished. I’ve been envisioning the ending for a long time now, and I’m looking forward to actually getting it down on paper (or whatever the digital equivalent is). Not to mention I have a series of other projects I’d love to dedicate my full attention to.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading so far. I hope you’re enjoying the series. As always, don’t forget to like, share, or review on Web Fiction Guide.

Click below to find the episode!