Breaker

Under the surface
Under the film, foam
Is the sea washing rocks
Wearing them away, slowly

To trace a finger along the surface
Is to invite something:
Fear, resistance, or danger
Of acceptance and desire

Those of us who
Dip our hands within
To feel the temperature
Are not sure what to do

When it is fine
Mostly without desire
To disturb the water
Our own rocks weigh heavy

Disrupt, cause undercurrents
Wish to cause no harm
Only to know, be known
But the deep end, no matter

Temptation will swallow whole
Float dead or thrash
Struggle to get out
Only to beg to get back in

Water will have changed
No buoyancy left
Cast out on the rocks
Body broken heart

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, June 2018

Philosophic Tragedy

Time flows in one direction
It cannot be stopped
It cannot be reversed
You decide to stop resisting
To be happy
Or at least at peace
Having known so little peace
So what then when
Something you want
Someone you need appears
Do you move toward them
Do you wait for them
To move toward you
What if you both float
Stare at each other
Wait for the other to speak
Unable, unwilling, afraid
Opportunity to love
To be loved, lost
To some idea that fighting
For what really matters
Doesn’t matter in the end

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, March 2017

Red Letter Day

On a dark night late in the year, you drove thirty minutes to a post office on the southern edge of downtown, to mail a single letter to someone you will not remember twenty years later. But anyway, it was more to get away, to send some feathers in a red envelope, some feathers from the wings of your heart which longed to fly out from this empty low place, to find a home where it was wanted and needed and valued. You no longer wanted to feel as though there was an impatient curmudgeon named Time waiting by the front door in a worn floral armchair asking, “Oh, you’re still here?”

That is why it did not matter to you that the drive was an hour round trip, to mail a single a letter, to whom you will never remember. It was important. It must have been a boy who you hoped would save you. No one noticed if you were gone for long periods and for long periods, years in fact, you wanted to be gone. Continue reading “Red Letter Day”