9/30

Matt told me

he felt like a piece of his soul
went missing
more than 10 years ago.
I couldn’t help but swoop into a bird’s view of him
lying on the ground in 1999 on that dirt-colored
carpet
sobbing
at the even sadder
bleaker
ceiling.

Matt released into a halo effect.
The ceilings paint job became rings of water,
clouds and long stretches of supernovas.
Every inaccuracy in the ceiling became another shard
of his soul
splintering deep into his ribs
and he couldn’t even grind his teeth anymore to feel
like he was holding onto something,
even
not knowingness.

Matt imagined his tears
like blazing machines 

drilling over a hard dessert-like ground at a rockets speed.
Matt could see the animation of it all.
A canyon
forming from lacrimal papilla to some other
scientific name.
Echoes of the names of people Matt knew. The distance
they covered. The distance Matt would never reach.
The distance that passed,
that even the rumble in his ears became
something peaceful.

I guess I just forgot to put up WANTED posters.
I didn’t understand,
But that’s what Matt said as he shrugged
and continued searching
for the last piece of the puzzle. 

-sonja lynn mata