Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Spill (A Poem)

I am walking to lunch, jacket buttoned tight, sunglasses on

Contemplating who knows what because in a moment it’s

All swept away. I cross the street, I cross the sidewalk and I

Cut through the small hedge that lines the parking lot

Where my foot catches an exposed root and I have

A moment to realize I am falling and instinct takes over

Slapping the pavement as I hit. It’s still a hard fall, knocks

The wind out of me. I landed on my left side and in the

Pocket of my jacket is my small leather journal and it punches

Me just below the breast.  I lay there for a long moment, then

Roll over and stand up. I’m unhurt, except for my pride and I

Bit of bruising on the chest and a scrap where my left palm

Slapped the onrushing pavement.  I climb to my feet and sweep

The brown dirt from my arm, my knee, my thigh, my hair.

Lunch is a tiny little game hen, roasted squash

And scalloped potatoes with gouda.


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