Week 35; A Poem a Day


I’ve realized
My comfort zone
Is at the edge
Not further back
Where I can’t see distance
Where I can hardly imagine
At the last horizontal inches
My feet make a home
Wrap toes
Over right-angle threshold
And feel the height
I look down
And up
And out
At the miles
And think to myself
This must be the end
The margin of my world
But I’m fighting
A pull
At my sternum
A pull to break
The plane of safety
To jump
And trust the gases
That have filled
My lungs
For thirty odd years
While a voice
At the back of my skull
Don’t do it
Step back
Not worth the risk
The voice can’t see
What has taken me
So long
To see myself
A rough-cut path
Beyond the edge
To the unknown
I’ve longed
To know


The owl
Sent pillow calls
Into the barely lit
Dripping air
So I sat
Beneath his present tree
To hear
What I could learn
To see
What I could gather
As he conversed
With things invisible
To me
But he could not stay
For long
Another rooftop beckoned
His wings ached
To find more
Leaving me
With only
Silent flight feathers
And night vision eyes



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