Caeser

I found her to be the distant traveler,
walking with me,
but her thoughts
already into next year.

At the fork, we stop, turn
and rush towards each other,
we stab at one another,
legs and chests,
where the sternum meets the heart.

She shouts:
‘You are a sly coward,
who can crawl into my mouth
but not my hand.’

‘Who kidnaps my thoughts,
but can’t pass me the wheel.’

She doesn’t realize I was always her passenger,
but a boy dizzy from the travels,
my shadow in the frontyard,
pleading for my safe release.

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2 thoughts on “Caeser

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