prose poems by Mark Cunningham | ||
Blue |
You have to go after it. The crying has mostly stopped and any direction you walk is toward the azure distance. Nine hours later, any direction you walk is toward the azure distance. You're all right: your blood pressure has eased. Where the water is deepest cobalt, cup your hands. Nothing. You read your palms for so long they numb. The moon sets and you light a candle. A blue flame. Ghost. You're not frightened. You're sure you're the only one here.
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number 21 in the 2River Chapbook Series | Color Field • Contents • Chapbook Archives • 2River |