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Every Corner

Every Corner Who screamed into the exquisite canyon of your soul, their voice echoing in every iron-streaked corner for ages and ages hence? Was it someone who leaned too close over the precipice of its beauty and in a breathless stupor fell, screaming all the way down to the river? Did they lose their head, their sanity shattering on the immovable boulder of your innocence? Did their knuckles break and bloody on the gentle soil that knew only wildflowers and sage? Did the fall strip them of their dignity their hairy, beastly body plummeting naked past the deer? How loudly they must have screamed as they disappeared into your beauty leaving nothing behind but an echo in every corner. 5/2/2018

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 5/2/2018 8:17:00 AM
What a lovely poem, Jack. Enjoyed.
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Jack Webster
Date: 5/2/2018 8:37:00 PM
Thank you, Line.