Wednesday, November 12, 2014

SITTING ON TOP OF THE HILL

Looking conversely down
porch-perched along an asphalt ribbon
wrapping down to windowless
bricked factories and particle-
boarded store fronts, where 
I used to be.


A brown grey black sparrow
hops to and fro the spotted grass
and cracked sidewalk
looking for his daily sustenance 
only then his flight. Where 
and how far?


Looking conversely up
Midwest-grounded and terra-
cotta obstructed, an impulse 
manifests from the back
black and urges him
forward and up---
Why him? Why now?


Nothing to do but
act upon it---lost
friends and family
the unknown and new
faces.

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