The Best Worst Day
Perhaps
The Best Worst Day
The truth of serendipity is that it is a moment stuffed with straw and angled mirrors to catch the light
Just right.
The tightest grip so casually around my neck breathing “perhaps”
careless disrepair,
against me,
leaning,
pressing like thin air.
My space broken; an uncomfortable bus jostling and bumping as I feign an indifference and gaze long away.
But my soul twists and the mind makes those sounds like lambs behind the gate.
Again?
Again…goddammit.
gratefully again.
Tremble inside; you have almost found me after all my expert hiding. Counting to 100, children with closed eyes against a tree.
Breath short, hand over mouth…you can’t find me.
Not again.
There is a longing winter within, longer every season.
Hoping more earnestly for spring but I know that is not the…
Deep gulp, bitter air, every memory is Astaire
dancing upon my reason.
Turning, red wheel in motion.
Greeted by vacancy.
About the Creator
Mark R. Cieslak
"Our lives are madness. Trying so hard to make moments, take moments. Nothing but pianos in a storm."
"I hear the singing."
"What singing? You never said..."
"Ah boy, what singing indeed."
Keep reading
More stories from Mark R. Cieslak and writers in Poets and other communities.
And the Sun Came Up Tremendous
In memory of the 12 girls who were among the first victims of the atomic age. The screen on Mara's smartphone screamed beams of blue light into her eyes as she doom scrolled through social media. It was 4:13am, and she was still laying on her side in her bed unable to let go of the news headlines whipping past.
By Amanda Starks4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was so beautifully crafted! Loved your poem!