Dream Song 326.5

A Poem by Anon ymous

I want to stay true north, follow your footsteps; drive
to the sea, to the horizon; unzip the blue from the sky,

walk in the sand. Navigate using the slopes of barns,
faded red angles drooping under a March sun; turn

the radio all the way down, listen for the small sound
of your voice; an echo in the asphalt. Doing seventy,

I feel the weight of grey tug at the wheels, watch
thin mile markers scarecrow the path to a city buried

on a hill. Its streets and bridges pocked with gravel,
loss; broken pieces from a fallen moon.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s