...mere inches in centuries.


Distance Moves Slowly

For too long, I have posed
Like a gray fox amid the cactus,
Head low, ears high,
Sun heavy on my shoulders.

A desiccated plain, roads lined with carcasses
And crosses. Distance
Moves slowly,
Moving mere inches in centuries.

I accept that this was once the center.
Views changes, truths get re-written,
Fog surrounds in a snow-melt shroud.

I steal hours,
Afraid of what I might find
Beneath the giants
Of our birth.

There was once a time
When I would have sacrificed
Everything for a reason.

Unlatching secrets,
Exquisite echoes
And noble myths,
Pours the familiar over me
Soft as vanilla
Sweet as cherry and currant.

Still,
It is not you.




Poetry by Reilley
Read 477 times
Written on 2009-02-24 at 18:02

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Brian Oarr
I thought the first 3 stanzas of this poem were top shelf ... after that IMO the piece begins to wobble off track. Still those 3 stanzas were worth the read.
2009-02-24


Kathy Lockhart
outstanding imagery bringing alive the pictures painted with words. applaud.
2009-02-24