If i am caught 

I think of children playing

Of memories caught

In times as soft as breasts

Of nights in safety

Reading words

That escaped years ago

Of mysteries told

And world found

In tiny tapestries

Interested and awake

Lying in darkness

With prayers caught

In the Jesus hands

Of Debussy on

an autumn morn

an imperfect insecurity

i stayed there

hesitant to ask

unwilling to break

while worlds stammered

around me like unconscious

platitudes mouthed at death

i feed myself these

pretensions and look

the other way

unwilling to be caught

in the silent now