by Ryan Stone
are weaving through the dull
half light where, grey
amongst willows, ghosts
lurk—waiting to crawl
from root and bough,
into my turbulent mind.
My thoughts descend
to the angry red patch
invading my flesh. I want
to fling off my shirt and tear at
my future. Five miles behind, my
wife lies asleep, eyes battened
against this new dawn,
while I sink to my knees
in the mist and scream,
I deny! I defy!
My children are sleeping—
unaware of the curse
I hurl skyward
before turning for home.
I'll wake them
with kisses, with smiles,
with lies.
Beautiful! Congratulations, Ryan!
fab
Thanks so much, Fab. Really appreciate it.