All I Can See is your Breathing

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Drew Darby on Unsplash

To sit in the morning and sip coffee
and read and weep without tears and
push my fingers into my temple
and blow out a breath with a pop

as the clock ticks one more minute
in an October rain that leans against
the first frost of garden destruction
where it’s too cold to go out

and too cold to stay in. Luckily —
there is a child wrapped in blankets
before the fire on a makeshift bed
of throw pillows, radiating kinetic

potential into the clutching human condition;
skin folding into a fist that pounds the table
in rhythmic applause because today
is a petulant world with eyes rising

to realize those are sails on a ship,
not clouds, with a tiller to wrestle
and knotted rope to drop in the wake,
and plenty of tar to fill up all the holes.

Fill up all the holes.

© Trapper Markelz 2020

If you enjoyed reading this poem, please consider:

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store