Adrift is my soul,
no steady hand from the soul’s knowing, only air
Vertigo spinning out of control,
all one can do is cling to a chair rail
Damp white knuckled nose dive,
pull up, pull up
a pocket of unknown turbulence,
No choice but to go it alone but, I have the trees and they have me.
Beautiful words won’t change a damn thing.
It is in a dark crevice where scorpion and snake rest waiting to strike,
a flood wrecked bar bloodied with mud debris, as I search for treasure
a blind reach into blackness pulling out a shot glass brimming
with murky pain
Yet, another miracle, no deadly bite.
Can there be hope in a shot glass that once held tequila,
two women saluting to one another’s good graces.
Why not, it is still here, the invisible imprint of what the space once held,
a lingering of what has been lived.
Not even the flood of halloween can erase the love shared here.
I am adrift in unknown air, clenching the shot glass, remembering
I always recover.
For Beverly & Billy Ray, Eye of the Dog Art Center