Rockslide,Louise Annarino,1-26-2013

Another day started late

beyond the time to contemplate

justification for the time spent

writing a poem

few will read.

Nerves on edge

of a precipice built

with loose gravel,

not a sturdy life,

but shortened breaths

encased in gossamer

wings no longer

able to fly.

And, again

I ask “why?”

Why energy fled

before the keep was taken,before

the soul was shaken

like a tambourine’s

tinny sound,

uneven like my steps

placed in fear

of falling down

on my own,

or in the rockslide

my life is built upon.