I’m Resting

The wind was fierce
I was close
to be swept and pierced

Hurling through wind
as I gasped
nearing old sin

Tumble weed I was
but I rest
As tumble weed does

For Two

There was a cruel cackle
and a raucous roar
as I slayed my winnowing, wailing child
for two, the broken and the lucid

There sounded a cruel cackle
and a raucous roar
as I burned a poor, pure man at the stake
for two, the broken and the lucid

There blew a cruel cackle
and a raucous roar
as I held myself haughty hostage
for two
I, the broken and I, the lucid

This poem appeared first on the online publication Invisible Illness.