Bite My Tail

I tied my fancies about my wrist

ineptly, in my haste.

I expected these whimsical hopes to bounce along

below the skyline

like an ebullient balloon --

instead I find I am dragging them over my footsteps

like the carcass of a pet

that I refuse to accept as deceased.

My tracks are reminiscent of a corpse

dragging itself towards some unrealized goal,

creating slow circles simply to prove to itself

that it still exists.

Reviews

[Ravyne Hawke]

This is a brilliant piece, Ben.. I love hope being compared to a pet's carcass and footsteps compared to a corpse.. These eerie descriptions perfectly foretell what one feels like with hopes have been dashed against the wall.. so very little left of one's dignity. Excellent job, as always.

[Ben Taylor]

Thanks, Lori.