Tunnel

Poetry, Uncategorized

Core flutter

something was about to change

my heels as light as magnolia petals, as see through

(i have been reading too much Didion

leafing through the book of possibilities)

the oxygen in this room proliferates indelibly

something in the way he slid down next to me

slipped into my wrinkled mind

slept there for a night or two

as Hemingway or someone from long ago

magical thinking has dream-warped time.

(I have been reading too much poetry

and talking to myself at the washing line)

as if I could lather my mind and this would be gone

like a stain, like a lack of stretch or self awareness

that sees a blank in others, this birdcall at dusk

that will never be repeated.

I count my footfalls now and don’t trust the simple

time flow charts. Things can pivot in a second.

I write to see what I think

and throw it into the wind’s jaws.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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