12 Degrees & Skiving

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


dressed as a thin sip of hope
a misstep
too close
the sorry tumble of trust
throwing up so much dust and gravel
on the way down
it’s little face from up here kittenish
the topography of a lesson learnt
till I get it
in the filaments of being
the spatial understanding
love is no more or less
above me
on that glacier’s shoulder
than it is girdled in melancholy
on the ravine floor

Photo by Trace Hudson from Pexels


Tell me wotcha reckon

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

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