Kit Kelen #77 - catching breath

77

catching breath

I walk till some kind

of poem comes

catches me in flagrante delicto

walk under the power lines

buzz

and imagine

veins run to the city

voices lose themselves out here

I overwhelm myself

I'm the one

it's me with whom

I won't catch up

all the years shelved

no one else to care

it all ran wild in our absence

that was our will

out beyond the house

a stillness

no one's fussing there

vines are up a tree

moss, lichen, mistletoe

none in a hurry

me?

I have to unpack everything

wipe off the latest layer of dust

sort myself

before I sing

under a roof

so much to burn

how few of us know

we are building our pyres

when we construct fine tombs?