Sometimes
it doesn’t hurt too much
and one can sleep
responsibly
Other times
we know
that our roots are collapsing
into abstract pieces
where if we stare
long enough
certain parts become
visible to us
Sometimes
it remembers
when our entrails
were unconscious of aging
Other times
our shadow
reminds us of form
it once knew
Sometimes it overtakes us
like radiation
Other times we bask
in the glow of its presence
Sometimes
we know it’s an albatross
Other times
the burning rope that was flung
from our desolate spires
genuinely lands
deep inside its
unflinching
arms
copyright (c) 2011 by Vincent John Ancona
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