Saturday, November 21, 2020

Previously Published in Envoi Poetry . . .

The Chase

I tie a word to a kite, string
it, chase it       over
                                and through
sky's river.  Rushing
clouds batter, edges fray, fade.
Body begins to lose
ground.  Refusing 
                              the pull
                              of gravity,
I pen a new law, send it out
into the wind.  They meet, mate,
match wits.  Neither wins, but the idea
     slowly                     back
                                         into my fish.

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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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