Balancing Act






Balancing Act

 

Unless I can continue treading

heron-like around the edges of you,

 
the margins where our beings meet,

where pressure accumulates, you will

 
surely disappear. And the sky will

bother no longer being the blue of
 

yesterday. In confusion, I could easily

mislay the memory, let my legendary

 
ease slip away. Forget, then, what

you think you know. The tree of me

 
will stall before rebudding itself for

another spring, before counting out

 
its down-payment in leaf. Root will

become all. At the bottom of a hill

 
it never used to feel impossible to climb,

I will be seen again, my framework

 
savaged and splintered, a puzzle with

all the crucial pieces forever missing.


Robert Ford



Robert Ford's poetry has appeared in both print and online publications in the UK, US and elsewhere, including The Interpreter's HouseDime Show ReviewButcher's Dog and San Pedro River Review. More of his work can be found at https://wezzlehead.wordpress.com/

Comments

Alicia Grimshaw said…
I really like the intertwining of this piece. The beginning pulled me in,

"Unless I can continue treading

heron-like around the edges of you,

the margins where our beings meet,

where pressure accumulates, you will

surely disappear."

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