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a shortcut you used to take, located somewhere between a fatigued façade and a bench bare; a cozy little square where local drunks would congregate to damn the vicissitudes of their tipsy fate; a hole in the fence through which you peeked under the lining of the world till then impenetrable and still; a hunchbacked tree from under the cover of whose leaves it took you all your childhood to flee; a tank’s caterpillar tread on your doorstep; in life, the only one that would never yield a butterfly
Copyright 2022 F.R. Foksal
F.R. Foksal is the founder and editor of The Nonconformist, an English language literary magazine published in Poland.
What a wonderful ending poetry has
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Yes, the end of a poem should close like a well-made box.
M. Michael Simms https://www.michaelsimms.info
Author of Nightjar Author of American Ash Founder of Autumn House Press Editor of Vox Populi
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