 |
The Sun Dodger
|
|
i.
I do not need a ghostly sun,
nor the pliable strand of another's
voice; these things are useless.
As the dusk settles, it's my tears,
my bowed head; these are my distinctive
elements-- silver badges on my lapel.
ii.
I had a vision, a stunted glimpse,
but a vision nonetheless, to emphasize
the absent clamor of footsteps.
There was a rash in the sun
strewing itself over the urban
morass. The skein of streets
went unwalked, jilted structures
bound to stone graves beneath
great dunes of bone and debris.
My skeleton stood on one
of these mounds, bowing an ill tune
with a rib bone and violin.
iii.
It's only a matter of time.
I cannot forever dodge the sun,
and a pivot is futile; one side still burns.
|
|
Writer
Bio
|
Richard C. Williams has published poetry in various magazines and journals, including Niederngasse, Comrades, Snow Monkey, 3rd Muse, Artemis Journal, Little Brown Poetry, Red River Review, Tryst, and Pig Iron Malt. He is editor of the literary arts journal, Pierian Springs (http://www.pieriansprings.net), and currently resides in New York City.
richardc@pieriansprings.net
|
|
Other
Pedestal Published Works
|
|
|
|
