I stumbled upon a short
story, written
as if it were a poem-
Lines broken like cracks in the side-
walk that one steps
Over
Its title did not evoke its
gait and I hazard to observe-
if it walks like a big duck
it could be a small goose
and then
what do profiles
Reveal or musings in marginalia...
What makes a poem,
a place, a sense of something familiar
almost like thoughts
Severed
So many stories
follow a straight line
and then
I
turned a corner
saw a different path
without backstory and confident
Nobody
was following me
(anymore)
and then
it was done.
Artwork by Virginia Frances Sterret, 'Old French Fairy Tales 0077 in Public domain in US, via Wikimedia Commons.
