On the way to Fame & Fortune

Posted: June 4, 2015 in poker

hopscotch

Recently published in an anthology by Tupelo Press.

HOPSCOTCH

Federico Garcia Lorca hears his heart beating at five
In the afternoon. Something changes.
He hammers stars into the evening sky. One by one
They appear and make the night grow black.

Dostoevsky climbs dark apartment stairs in Petersburg,
Remembers the firing squad, the reprieve. Startles awake
Cursing loneliness, a bright sun on a white night.

Keith Richards watches the wall, his shadow
Touching wallpaper, a song in his head,
Pepper vodka in a plastic cup.

A journalist in Sarajevo… crouched behind a jeep
As his best friend bleeds in the street. An airline ticket
Falls from the pocket of his camo jacket, hands begin
To tremble as the shots stick in the stone wall at his back.

And the angel they seek draws a few boxes with chalk,
Throws a little stone and starts to count.
From an open window in the house next door, she hears
Someone play a cello. She stops to take
A little breath, smiles ever so slightly.
Step, step, jump.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “On the Way.”

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