Hut
He had this place
a shed to shed skins in.
At the burnt-out end of day
under a naked electric light
he sat to empty his mind
of all issues,
all the well-thumbed memories
that brought him no joy
or gain.
The light bulb began to swing back and forth.
He began to count the gentle swings.
As he watched
the swings gained strength
swung faster.
He lost count,
then he lost himself,
The hut disappeared and returned
as night shed his soul from his shell.
The body for a while
still counted
steps it would take no more.
Issues and memories
littered the floor.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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