Thursday, November 18, 2010

how easily I fumble--how surely I fall--

the message I've awaited for years

coming just when I go to the toilet--

the vocation poleaxed by the fate that assures my failure

a carcass picked clean by the wind--

the aspiration short-circuited as my effort to attain it

watches empty-handed as the opportunity is snatched away--

even if this collapse opens a way out and renews my will--

to easily fumble and to surely fall

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

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