david weisman
jeff d'angelo
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On the way across a narrow bridge
A wind with foresight gathered
The bridge's wires tightened tautly
But what is taut, to a man in the loop of slack.
There's not a shimmer winking, nor blinking up high
A cover of absolute darkness absorbed my eyes
Although the water below shared with not one noise
I still knew it was there, swirling and poised.
Behind my gait
lurch torment and confusion
Up ahead, and undiscovered
My future's forbidden.
Although I knocked
As a guest to the door
The echo fell gently
As a feather to floor.
I begged and I screamed
"Won't you please let me in?"
Because without my person present
How will my next day begin?
However, my host did not appear
Or send the servant to attend.
My needs were not many
For the wisdom he could lend.
My knuckles were shredded and torn to the bone
My fingers too shaky to grasp at the knob
My blood turned grease slippery
As my shrieks became sobs.
Nevertheless, you never answered
Your ghost never came
The wind still holds the infant's voice
To mimic all my shame.
I leaned upon the pillar,
And Samson came to mind
But hair is not my strength
Nor the cornmeal I'm to grind.
Now I know that I'm a salesman
Who has never earned commission
A solicitor unpaid,
And left with a decision.
To stand here waiting in remission
Or rather, down that road
For one more door I guess I'm wishing
Oh my gun, I must reload.
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