Another Halloween, and this time I am prepared. I take walks through the neighborhood with my head down, avoiding front yards full of gravestones and hanging effigies that stung me last year . This year, no surprises, no tears. How lightly they take death who have not felt its tragic weight. Yet is it any surprise I’ve been thinking and writing about rope the last couple weeks?
Chance*
You
took chances.
So
many ways you could have died
on
surfboard, snowboard, motorcycle--
just
one blindsiding wave, curve, car.
I
worried, you scoffed, we played
our
parts; you stayed intact.
Disasters
I conjured
but
never this torrent
swamping
your soul.
You
took no chances.
You
could have set it up
to
disappear at sea, plunge
off
a cliff, but
a
rope over the rafters
leaves
no mistake,
no
clue,
no
you.
*All poetry in this blog is
original work-in-progress, unless attributed to others.
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