Member-only story
Black Flags
I will find myself at the end
1
I will find my way off
the wheel, like mill water
I’ll slip from the zenith, pay back
my potential with a scattered dive.
This falling is a form of freedom.
2
I will find myself at the end,
how a spitting pugilist drops
a strapping boot on dried bloodstains.
Swollen and smiling, their hand
reaches for water — something to replace
all that was lost.
3
I will release myself
from a crisis of trying,
an annual rhythm slicing
of another offbeat aurora
that arches across the sky.
4
I will paint over the walls
of blood-red celebration,
the ones on which I hang slanted frames.
Dress up for another party —
my memorial — a place
to finally tell my best stories.
©️ Trapper Markelz 2022
If you enjoyed this poem, please consider: