NOT LIKE STANDING STILL
Nor like staging a spacewalk, it's
just that I cannot catch my breath.
Cannot make that last leap of air
before getting over the hump. I'm
always counting backwards. I'm
always in a heap. Decimated like
a decadent turmoil in a murky
time of discontent.
-
We hold too many things in the
air at once, and I am grounded
yet intent on going there. If I
held a briefcase now, it would
tax my only lungs : a new form
of onus, a decibal's shout too
loud for human ears. It's not so
much like standing still; more
like not getting anywhere.
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