Outstretched arms.
What do you seek?
More of a storm
has been rising.
It’s been apocalyptic
to even recognize you,
while you remain
miles from the truth.
Lost at sea,
unable to see
your face
you are trying
to describe,
upon a plea.
Love could anchor you
to infinity.
Cities could build you
into security.
Dried up as a leaf
fallen from autumn’s
fatal decline,
you rush downstream,
remembering words
from endless
rehearsal.
It’s the time,
is what you say
when you blame
the promise
written backwards.
Leave a Reply