June 03, 2019
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
It has been a long
quiet week
of discontent
quiet only in the sense
that we did not write
each other
words
it is hard to be busy
when your bones know
the futility of the effort
not simply the sisyphean sense
of never ending toil
but in the burned in
memories
of the boulder
its weight
and rough edges
making purchase
in your cracked, just bleeding
skin
helpless, I keep my eyes open
and watch as darkness
covers me
around the millionth time
I start to see
bits of life
in the nooks
like lichen
straining to find the sun side
I adhere to these
like a man
pushed off a cliff
clings to a fortunate
found vine
found vine
half way
to the rocky bottom
I wonder
does my salt
and sanguine stain
offer sustenance
to these microscopic
lives
of
mine?
or am I
always
stuck
stuck
under
a
first
crush
