On the Rocks

First published in Outcast Press, Vol. 4

Reeling hours on the cliff’s edge
waves splinter below us
we revel in the glare and the throttle of it
put our hands in the fire to keep the bones from showing
roll the old chariot along, we’ll
hang on behind

They say the first step is the hardest
I feel the sweetness of that imagined threshold
warm bread, finally home

But first
I’d need to free myself from the weeds and the water
stare down my own reflection
ignore its whisper
that it’s here that I belong