Poet at FortyA Poem by Dennis Willis
In the slow gradual surrender to time
And circumstance You find quietness And ease And settle in to curse Half-heartedly Blood down sense up And back from the edge You find time to look around See what’s edge you’ve been on Comment on its sharpness Its shearness its finality Its fertility Its unattractiveness is stunning And funny and futile Not subtle But serpentinely fascinating And you are unbitten Unswallowed Done with it A step back sighing smiling slouching Until your feet touch nothing You kick you flail Employ yourself fully To break the surface And breathe And glimpse the far off Once familiar shore Think, good thing I love to swim have survived the crazed run to the sea have come to the sea have come to see in deeper water in time The light is bent And colored in the current The bottom is Vague Swimming nearby Are mountains I’ve never seen Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis © 2019 Dennis Willis |
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Added on November 5, 2019 Last Updated on November 5, 2019 AuthorDennis WillisOHAboutUp for election to head of nothing at all. Running on an all inclusive platform. more..Writing
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