in the house of sticks
with its rickety stilts
sticking down into the river,
not enough integrity to be a boat
and so required to constantly
resist the flow
I don’t want to rely
upon its chinks and weaknesses
to let the flashing light into my vision
(its shaking makes the roaring current fearsome)
Don’t want to be
the victim of its fall,
pierced with broken points,
toppled in rigidity
I want to slip free,
lower myself gently
into the coursing brightness
and glide.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 9, 2017
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