15 November 2014


From far away I hear his breathing,
Labored.  He must be running…  I write to him
Stop.  Unlace your racing shoes, remove them
And peel off your socks blood and sweat.
I picture a stretch of
Long extensors and venous arch
Prominently defined from the revolt
And there at each ankle hinge an old wound,
A round scar the color of rust.
We have all been crucified one way or another
In our fashion we react.
You run. 
Then you slow down and wink
You bestow upon me the punishment of Tantalus
A fact you’ll deny, sweet your denial.
You’ll say take fruit, take drink, so reach
             My muscles never did reach
             No matter how near you were
                          I love you
Runner, elusive hummingbird
As you fly from the nectar of emotion
To the elixir of intellect
To the comfort of denial
Because, listen: because
             Don’t want to stop.

Is that my cross to bear, is that so?