Feathers of the same root

A loose shoelace
and a careening cuff on jeans;
the road seems to turn fluid.
I realize
the treacherous slide
of looking back-
even dirty,
there’s comfort in set equations.

He last wrote with me in mind
months ago
and I discovered it was just an echo
of her, still her,
which made me feel
like a feather plucked
before its time.
And he is worried about time.

But I am floating
just like he is
and it’s all the same now
in mid-air,
with only sky and wind
to hear the tales
and wonder at the silliness
of flesh and synapses.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: