Portrait of Old Man Sitting
on Front Porch
on Front Porch
It
is
the wings
beating in
your bloodstream, the old
projector playing at all hours
in your head, night or day, the bulb never burning out.
It is the snowflake at the center of your storm, the candles behind your eyelids, the
rafters of your ribcage, barely supporting itself
under the stress of its own weight,
but continuing
to do so,
despite
it
all.
