For Goose
I hold the weight of her world
in my hand. A wide-eyed mind
where dragons dance with
rainbows and unicorns glide
through storms––where a glimmer
of greatness glistens in a world
that wills her to fail.
May Sisyphus pause as she ascends––
stumbles, rises, stumbles again
unyielding.
Let Icarus weep as wax wings carry
her beyond the horizon.
She sees me as a pillar––marble-cut,
strong, sure––my shoulders a place
upon which she rests her faith.
She does not see my quiet
ruin. The fall from grace written in
scars that hum hymns
of survival; tragedies that would
humble the greatest of heroes––
twelve feats failed, a frayed string of Fate.
She cannot know––must never
know––that the beating of her
little heart is the only thing
keeping mine.