Exit Lines

Bubble wrap and packing tape seam together

the years undone in this place

of changing landscapes

one upon another

     almost by studied design

 

Here, where shadows hang from loft to

barefoot rugs below

of quiet books and overly-ambitious pillows

     accidental naps and

     startled silence in the dark

 

Dancing echoes in the stairwell of raucous yesterdays

when you added your extravagant melody

     to my perpetual dance in receding tides  . . .

 

When summer heat etched my fingernails

with indelible hopeless,

     concentric circles painted in burnt umber,

sewer drains and rusty faucets

 

open doors and moonlight

fractured by screeching wind insistent on

hail stones and cracked defenses

     sloping shoulders, missing piano strings

 

keyboard sunrises of unsorted disarray

left in a heap on the

floor

stretched out socks and blue jeans

    turned inside out . . .

dredge marks upon my skin

    begging propitiation

 

For I was not meant for this place

where sands shift beneath my feet, sharp stones,

surprising in their intensity

    distract me from the double yellow

 

And yet

         but yet . . . tomorrow.  and again.

Maddeningly

scratches my sleepy face

demanding bleary attendance with annoying

diligence

as I tape up this weighty baggage.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

nowhere, i think, is it said better than this

[J]

you are beyond, dear friend. thank you x