It's just poetry, it won't bite


06.22.19 Posted in today's words by

David Reuter lives and writes in Lincoln Park, New Jersey. His work has been published in Existere, Sanskrit Literary-Arts Magazine, and The Cape Rock. He attended the William Paterson University Spring Writer’s Conference in 2018 and the Rutgers Writer’s Conference in 2017 and 2018. He has a bachelor’s degree from Caldwell College and works as a paralegal. He enjoys practicing martial arts, playing guitar, and cooking.

By David Reuter

While I wandered on the sandy ground
and dangled in your iron grasp,
you marveled at the perfect lines
the engine left behind.
They slit across the stubborn space
while whitened ice defied the aqua sky.
I tugged and dragged your idle hand
to make you break your dogged gaze.
The evidence soon slipped away,
faded to a thinned-out cloud.

Today we watched it once again.
You limped beside my constant strides
and carried gray in tousled lumps
upon your fraying head.
With wizened, flinty eyes,
you took in the accustomed sight
and leaned against my bracing frame.
The wake decayed and drifted slow
into a blended, weakened mist.

There will soon be nothing once again
and no one to watch
the frenzied fall into the void
and I will stand on heavy legs
that slogged a lifetime’s trek.
I will dodder on the strand
in solitary fits and heaves
and wonder at the vanished wake
we were beguiled by.

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