THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

BACKWASH
Walking backwards in my mind slowly thru time
I find myself stranded, just another body standing in line
A pathetic piece of flesh and bone
Left alive to review all the scrapings my handmade in stone
Until the carving knife broke from all the writing
And I found that my life was not so exciting
As I had envisioned it
But drinking made it seem to fit
The surrounding air and places I had the train boarded
Without thought of where the trip was going or how sorted
It would be
But I would soon see
The bridge left broken and bloody near that meadow in years past
Where death took a friend and then came the revenge that failed to last
In my heart, that day as the vomit filled my mouth with backwash
And life about me began to sway and I felt the sting of a lash

Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn: written 9.9.18 first draft