Trekking Big Mountain
ancient mountains
& old growth trees.
Today we adorn costumes and assume characters
nationwide. Urbanites, suburbanites, good ol’ boys gathered
in gaggles and guilds where Goodness is relative, obscure,
the resolution of podcast policy partially impertinent
and totally irreverent. Witness leaf blowers fight less-than-lethal
ammunition and fill roads with fresh asphalt after artillery
cracks by. March. March. March. March. June. June. June.
Discomfort always brews too soon, contorts whistles from runes,
holding leashes with their pinkies and blames violence on you.
What’s going to happen in twelve hours? It’s hard to fall asleep.
He’d talk to me of roots.
It was only the roots
whenever he called,
the kind once sunk
in blood-soaked earth
somewhere between
Khotyn and Lviv.
I met him just once.
He looked cold,
his coat long and lean
like a Leningrad winter,
his beard a wide wheat
field his father could see
from his orphanage window.
We met at a market.
I don’t know how
he knew me, but there
he stood, shopping bag
in hand, rambling on
of cousins, aunts and fathers
– ruins in a lost river.
The Facebook posts came later.
News of the “beat down”
by “young cowards.”
One woman just couldn’t
grasp the gratuity: “He goes
to the library every day,
doesn’t mess with anybody.”
Two graying grannies, teeth stained from old prayers, plot to settle a score.
* after Equilibrium Update by J. Allyn Rosser
have you ever loved someone so hard
that your bones ache
this love is a
tangible thing
it’s a piece
that i have dug out
from my breastbone
marrow that once nourished
my body now
belongs to you
i ache in your absence
but i ache in your presence
i have given
everything there is to
give;
i ask for nothing
in return
except
don’t leave me