One Hundred Miles
Her knees look painful, all her joints
Look far beyond the comfort point,
And yet that buckle does anoint:
On hundred miles, she says she goes.
More movement in the kelp that grows,
Or changes in the corn in rows,
And I’ve seen faster glacial flows:
One hundred miles, she says she goes.
Visible, her mileage woes,
No longer nails upon her toes,
Her frame so thin, attracts the crows:
One hundred miles, she says she goes.
She’s drawn to run, it’s like a curse;
I’ve read this chapter, seen this verse,
Pursued by demons, maybe worse:
One hundred miles, she says she goes.
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment