The Distance Remained

What even is poetry?

I suppose it’s for when life is too weedy and wonderful for prose.

We waited a long time there in the brambles, amidst the tobacco smoke, we talked for hours. What were we on about? It didn’t matter. Together was wonderful.

She motioned towards the middle distance. A gesture altogether fitting for our joyous apocalypse.

Read me the story in the stars. That is what her eyes whispered.

I gathered myself. Trying very hard to remember all the echoes.

The distance remained.

Bewildered I sipped some of the coffee chilling steadily with the onset of evening.

I let the cicadas drown the question.

Beyond a billion years of bones nourished the trees that swayed amidst the rose tinged sky.

The South smelled of mildewed lumber and magnolia.

Her…


Support the Journal

Make a donation via PayPal to help zazz things up.

$1.00

Not Just Zazz…but Pizzazz

Too high class for regular Zazz? Help Pizzaz up TFJ!

$5.00

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: