Hopefully …

Photo: Creative Commons

Photo: Creative Commons


Hopefully is a deceptive word

Used too many times for useless arts,

Inherent in its promise with a possibility of failure.


It’s a promise that orbits without connecting,

Embowed around my space, time, subjects, affections.

Our relationship remains distant and constant.


The constant moon in the winter sky

Extends his exaggerated brightness

In the surrounding empty darkness.


He’s the glowing illusion of hopefully,

Just a barren pocked landscape borrowed by sunlight,

Sunlight that steals any hopeful lunacy of poems.


Then as bright as the sound of the word – hopefully

Spoken again and again,

The moon spins himself past my horizon again.


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