ESCHEW AND EKE

Forests of evasive retorts,
Clinging onto the hem of your cohorts,
Grandfather clocks ticking angrily now,
Sensing concern from the slope of your brow,
Minutes dwindling as a form of last resort crowns,
Another scapegoat prince for your ghost town,
Expound fishing efforts for red herrings,
You listen to their dress shoes tapping,
Intertwined once, currently unraveling,
Papa’s suitcases faded from years spent traveling,
His speech is dusted off for another explanation,
Yet, you turn your head away, sink into abbreviations,
That rehash themselves as fragments of forgotten creations,
Subliminally, the same distracting words,
Are the same familiar sounds ringing your ears,
Mr. Wildebeest, won’t you lead the sorry herd,
No more running, the lines were not always blurred,
Slowly,
Slowly,
Slowly,
Step into his shoes and adjust your soles,
Lessons come hard as long as you uphold,
His sweat,
Her tears,
Yourself.

Eschew & Eke

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© Hazim Haemoglobin 2012

Poems


Eschew & Eke


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