Note Fingered to Sand

Fort Island Trail Beach, Crystal River

 

Break your callus, across plain:

A point-of-no-return impact we

Made—I didn’t know it then.

 

It was real in the sand with fingers

Spread wide. Wrote a note to myself,

You’ll be OK.

 

Cold sidewalks in December: Christmas

Lights, like auras, fringe and sparkle—

Well-lit, caught in the corner of eyes.

 

Walk scrapped knees,

Across plain:

Of all light, spread beams

Widen to cross me—

I didn’t know it then.

 

I’m not waiting with blood down my shins,

Tripping, stubborn I am.

 

Rubbed-wrong wrists and scalded palms

Held-fingers closed, into a fist; I am…

 

A wrapped promise,

Saved for myself,

To keep warmth in.

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