A man walks along a pier
following his own shadow,
considering the state of his marriage
he does not notice when his outline
swallows a dog, or a hungry cat
or two old ladies eating lunch on a bench.
He walks with the sun on his neck
and the world on his mind, led on
by a human cloud, which tilts its head
lets its arms absently fall to the side
and crushes a half dozen pigeons.
A human swathe plays in the waves
while he looks out over the water.
He stares farther and farther away
as if he could only peer into himself
by following his gaze along
the curve of the Earth’s circumference.
He turns to go back to his office
and his shadow follows him, like a cape
an echo that keeps pace with its source
When he arrives at his building
the dark rectangle of that tower consumes
his own. He is left in the dark.
When he reaches the window of his corner office,
his shadow returns silently to his desk
and across the carpet. The shadow
of his left hand, like a sunrise, floats
over his signatures, and the surrounding
legal texts. When he folds the documents
together and leans back in his chair,
the curve of his head is cast
onto the entirety of his divorce. His wife arrives
under the streetlights, her shadow is bloated
with an unborn child. The pregnant darkness
sheds no water from its two dimensions.
Soon that shadow will split in two
and will live under the black
worrying veil of its father.