In this year of China’s moon,
there ends a life too soon.
On the cliff’s outcropping I stand,
not yet daring the mile-down view.
I wait for the scene seekers to disperse,
then pin this sorry note to the grappling tree.
You see, ah…
I cannot shake them.
Like brain bees they buzz.
Dark stories they tell, without end.
All help seemed too busy with life.
Now, I will walk backwards,
fixing on the air’s horizon,
leaving no room for second thought.
I will count the paces.
Ten, twenty, thirty.
I will wait for the surge of crazy strength.
I will run, arms wheeling,
and be gone.
I hope to make the river,
winding in the sun’s silver,
to spare you the sight’s abomination.
My pile of jellied bones,
entrails of pastel,
If the punctured eyes contrive a stare,
it is not accusatory.
Only a mirror
of a hell that slowly did go by.
Hello, I am Lee Dunn. Working stiff (retired). Avid reader, dreamer, and searcher. I write some eclectic poetry, prose, personal stories, and fiction. Have had work published in the Shelburne Free Press. I blog on WordPress at https://secret-lifeof.com/
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