He grapples with rebellion
in me today, seeking the mattress
for resolution is, knowledge that work
is escape and uncertainty. It is not friend,
ship raising anchor with burdens in tow, lines
affixed to smaller, stronger tugs, guiding barges
toward deep water, wider
horizon is one horizon ever,
one horizon seen, named until death; do we part?
Are you aboard, sighted man, either guiding this
vessel or leaping down the dock plank to ensure
others are sound in their goals? I grapple with
rebellion again, seeking the mattress, waiting
with resolution, paid to surgeons decades
back. Seeing fantasies as drudgery, un-
clear states of known misery kept for
weight like this, weight that turns
its head, soul, mind, heart into
man-made high inches of
propped comfort, deny-
ing there ever was a
spontaneous song
inside me here.
Posted by nancy at August 2, 2013 11:50 AM