by dm gillis

he is like me
staring down oncoming trains
presenting in the guise of animals
running toward a single bright eye
suspended in important dark

he is like me
peripheral & presenting
as familiar his
hand held out
a la Da Vinci toward
forgiveness & his god
fallacious in its warp un-
able to produce perfection
even in his angels
in their own eccentric orbits

he is like me
thin as the tension of our surface
disturbed by a careless stone
in the rooms underneath