threshold

There go the words I would have put here,

there goes the sky I would have said

if only I looked better in its light.

Look flight is like this—

a pointless exclamation, a panic in

heaven’s direction, speed and

strength and the miracle of lift—

wings working hard despite 

the words hammering down,

envy the salt of all human endeavor 

so I brine away and

bray and bray, all worked up

to nothing left to say, down to counting

breaths and throwing bones. Without you

there’s a lot left over.

It burns a hole in my pocket,

all the way to the wide horizon 

it doesn’t change. Each day

the long haul gets short changed.

The crows call and barely give it

a second glance. More and more

I am a failed state overtaken by 

ants and earth, I am

the forest missed for the fire.

Fewer words and letters 

no longer written or insisted as 

we wither down to dust.