In turquoise white wind
I watch you run the track,
of lapis stone made slits
as your carborundum soul made sluts
of us all, cheated by a millennial
shortage of virgins.
I watch you run
harder than you ever cared;
not the grey waste of bone and fog,
the corpse man of now, but the boy
who loved his dog and me
till the wolf stepped out to
stare us both away.
Run on in your baby-fine skin
your snow-eyes squint-smiling,
softshell spirits busy at rip and heave
behind your shipwreck face,
knowing the race is a joke
the finish a scripted dissolve,
winning endlessly temporary.
until you fade
in hungry dust.
The particled cloud
as a fall of scorpions.
Best to never have
to run like that
posted for real toads
Kerry's Wednesday Challenge: Resolutions
Kerry O"Connor of Skylover gives us the nudge:"The challenge is entirely open to personal interpretation of the theme:"Resolutions" and the poem you write for this challenge may be reflective, narrative, analytical or abstract."
Top Image: Wolf Dog, 1976, by Jamie Wyeth
May be protected by copyright. Posted under fair use guidelines via wikipaintings.org
Footer Image: running man, by Max Froumentin, on flick'r
Shared under a Creative Commons License