Purgatory

Ours is bridge of insatiable frost.

In crossing I am made horizontal,

humbled by your transparent tenacity.

I do not want to speak

of feelings or doings anymore.

I have no recommendations to give

if you favor me then you might as well feast.

I am only bones anyway

but I’ve plenty of marrow.

Your gravity pinches off my margins,

drawing out each breath,

a passive scream, two lungs

tenderized by terror.

My calendar is full of your musings,

of your footprints deep as fossils.

I would follow you to my own demise,

but purgatory does not allow

the visitor much of a view

and in truth I have no where to go.

(I am a bit stuck today and I know why.)

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6 responses to “Purgatory

  1. Frankly, you could publish a whole book of your “stuck” work–it’s dynamite!! The opening line is SO Fabulous–and it just keeps going from there…

  2. “calendar”

    My, my, my, how good these are:
    “In crossing I am made horizontal”
    “if you favor me then you might as well feast
    I am only bones anyway
    but I’ve plenty of marrow”
    “two lungs
    tenderized by terror

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