1.
We're not trilliums or daffodils
That spring back up
After a nap in the dirt.
2.
You told me you wanted
To make the crossing
Over to Cold Island
And I could never believe you.
It wasn't the karmic stain
That bothered me,
But the unfathomable fact
You didn't want to be here;
That all this wasn't enough.
All this is that.
And it wasn't enough.
3.
You stare into the ditch
You spent years unloading.
You are afraid to climb in
And stop,
To take something
That isn't working,
and make it not work forever.
4.
It's
so
quiet
you
hear
dust
motes
six
feet
up
bump
in
shafts
of
sunlight.
---o0o---
jack brummet
2 comments:
That's one mighty sad poem.
Yeah. . .it's really about three people I knew who ended it. One was Keelin's brother, Colum, who lived in NYC much of the time we did. I wrote a few lines of that one many years ago. . .and recently added a lot more and actually finished it.
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