Out the window, perhaps, but it is not so high
to provide a merciful end, more likely a crumpled
cripple unable to complete the task, dragging
the rest, under a cerulean sky lighting crimson,
bone shards piercing skin. Gasping.
There is much anger here. I do not fathom
the physics, but view hard-wiring made before.
I dampen dissonance with some stroke of
compassion, pulled from a time I was cruel,
crying and injured.
Loss unresolved but taken, under quiet trees,
magnolias in sunshine. Old bells ring, high walls
protect the cobbled city, streets damp and
slippery. I do not know which way, but I go on,
meekly hopeful, forces diffuse.
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