Late

I want to go home, but I’m not yet done
with either my current can of Coke or the slides
I still plan to hammer into sequence tonight,
but my veins are fuzzy with lack of sleep,
my focus leaking every which where
except upon the topic at hand. Oh, to possess
the command of crystalline logic, the grace
of cut-glass concentration — my task
is neither Sisyphean nor any other
incarnation of impossible, and yet
as daunting as not turning around when told
not to turn around. Behind me are the shards
of shattered piggybanks, the shreds
of a lunatic’s leathers, the specks
of myself — for yes, already
I am crumbling, a tale of salt
trailing away from the very water it sought.

– pld

[Prompted both by PAD challenge – “longing” – and today’s words at Read Write Word (thanks, Joanne!). That, and I really do want to head home soon. *wrenches attention back to work*]

The Poetic Asides prompt for Sunday was “miscommunication”:

Verbal Tender

Not wanting to talk,
Ron pretends he’s asleep,
hoping that Dan
will read him as “exhausted”
rather than “mad”

but when Dan drops onto
his side of the bed
without even a sigh
to suggest a considering
look, it is all Ron can do
not to demand right then
that they un-fold all their cards
and agree to new stakes —
to something able to light
the same fire under their tails.

---

This week’s Fifty Two Pieces prompt: Dzunuk’wa Feast Dish:

From a Woman At the Fork in the River

You cannot flee from emptiness, for while
it may devour you without its many lips
grazing upon any part of your skin,
your life may depend upon its gliding grasp,
its darkness rich with teeth
that will tear from you new eyes.

– pld

[P.S. Mary, when I saw the image and read its caption, I confess my first reaction was, “That is so a marymary poem in waiting…” 🙂 ]