A Poem (and a Photograph)

Walking Home. Almost Night.

Following my shadow, I walk away
from intermittent sunlight and faith
recounting events dismembered by time.

One by one coincidental cracks
appear on the icy shell where I hide–
swimming naked–in tall grass.

I follow the shadow, step by step,
retracing the route, outlined in ancient
times, into dark space and beyond.

Holding a dying old hand–
unrecognized–by the many selves
disconnecting me from the inside.

Chased by death, I don’t walk fast.
I like the smell of death at my back.

I look around. No one’s in sight. Alone
in darkness, I resist the urge to feel pity
tonight, on my behalf.

Turning a corner, loosing by chance
the dark outline I’ve walked besides,
a passing light illuminates my stride.

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