In Paleness

I grieve, in the company of others
as the moon,
full
and round,
to my dagger point.

A quiet smile
to stop the
rattling of sympathies,
or the sorry robes
that are put upon my shoulders,
inadvertently too small.

In dry air of the office light,
I sit
amongst the forest-night.
No form
but paleness,
beneath the hands of stars.

I tuck myself into
excel sheets,
pulling them up to my neck.
I’ll sit here, beneath these covers.