To Hide in Scarcity as We Sponge
In the sun’s glare, find the bowl and
spoon, the foreshadowed arrival. The yard is antidote. Inhale the light. Start
eating. Arrive. Hear the lowly. The panacea of presence. No one says we’re less
light than blight, less rock than sham, less glory than vain. No one says
choose. Some said fate. Others ignore the growthless, the lack of outcropping,
the relevance. Grab completion. Quiet the ground. Live in diversion. Disregard
the scarcity of clarity, retreat, sit, and awaken in the trees like a wren.
They took our difference, erased us.
They want us to sponge ourselves from
the water. Stand.
David Bankson
David
Bankson was finalist in the 2017 Concīs Pith of Prose and Poem, and his poetry
and microfiction can be found in concis, (b)oink, Thank You for Swallowing,
Artifact Nouveau, Riggwelter Press, Five 2 One Magazine, etc. He lives in
Texas.
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Poetry