When it
is all fear, the ribcage
sprung
against hydrostatic pressure,
the jack
hammer resilience supporting
and
punishing. Keystones crumbling,
the omens
along the fault line and the
mason's
hand fidgets in the lee line.
Where.
Where am I in these distances.
If I
could read then I would have
someplace
to say I am but I can't see
past
these automatic trees. There were
bridges:
for burning, for jumping off,
or for
finding trolls under.
An arms
width or less if you could
stand
near the right place. A finger
relaxes
into an arc. Resting only on
two
points, such a small connection
when it
is easy
.
No comments:
Post a Comment