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Poem 19

from my poetry collection The Flaw in my Plan

By Kait ThursdayPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
Pilgrim in a Rocky Valley, Carl Gustav Carus, 1820

Imagine my cold palms on your warm face.

Imagine the water and steam on our skin.

Imagine a kind of fear that is free from violence.

We ran down the hill together, but we stumbled.

We drank the wine together, but we choked.

We forded the river together, but we were swept away.

Imagine a melody blowing smoothly through us.

Imagine me singing when I think you’re asleep.

Imagine a kind of dance that is full of violence.

I imagine you in a valley, scaling then falling.

I imagine you shouting: angry, but climbing.

I imagine you in a valley, but not forever.

I ran down the hill alone and skipped like a stone.

I drank the wine alone and named myself king.

I forded the river alone and floated gently to shore.

I imagine measuring time beneath stars.

I imagine giving you pause without detaining you.

I imagine that I, myself, wrote the words of a long-dead stranger.

Imagine a fine worth its collateral.

Imagine running down the trail and hearing me close behind.

Imagine me brought to my knees, unafraid of violence.

We stopped short of wicked just to be serious.

We ambled through darkness just to joke.

We fell from the tower and flew towards the ground.

Imagine a tunnel beneath a mausoleum.

Imagine ghosts singing when they know you’re awake.

Imagine the ground shaking on a planet made of violence.

I imagine a tune encircling my neck.

I imagine looking down at the tree branch beneath my bare feet.

I imagine a chorus lifting then dropping me down, down.

I winced twice remembering my once-self.

I called you twice from the base of my spine.

I did not disappear when you could no longer see me.

I imagine the same tune ripping out my throat.

I imagine you wincing twice remembering my once-self.

I imagine my body breaking under heavy, unrelenting violence.

love poemssad poetryheartbreak

About the Creator

Kait Thursday

I'm a poet and a novelist, but my friends call me a starving artist. I've been writing for twenty years and have no plans to stop. I post new content to Vocal every month, but I have ADHD, so remind me if I forget.




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