12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

fissures

a compound fracture
from the stacked
weight of years
sifting hairline fissures
fishing light through
loose scree
moraine drifts
for sphinx’s riddles
for golden knucklebones

we were

i would have taught you
to swim
we might have heard
that longed for
flutter
of energy within

we would have loved
with summer in our hair
we would have
canoed across life
stirring no ripple nor trout below

we would have felt
the gradient
of alpine fields
thin bright air
pulling our lungs
pulling us up
nets cast long before us
our shadows as one

we were
sure of this
as the rush of river
throws itself down
secure in
knowing it will
in her own slow time
fall into the arms of the sea

we were
except for the rush of yesterdays
all those nothings
were the rust
in everything
we were

and now
i am

in my own
unmeasured
time
i will take up the oars
and fall
into the arms
of my sea

P1140890

Tell me wotcha reckon

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This entry was posted on May 1, 2020 by in Poetry.

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