Lying on my back, I find myself gazing at fingers passing by overhead. They are not moving. Not gesturing to me. Unknown to me, their own is silent and unresponsive. So, I watch it swinging; that swinging limb.
The Swinging Limb
Swinging limb
left to right
to and fro
like the lazy bird glides
screaming its words
the caw and the shriek
the howling sound
as it passes over me
the swinging limb
with dripping drops
the bird keeps flying
as the limb still rocks
like the legs of a rocking chair
back and forth
like a man alternating
between south and north
like a head on a neck
that’s far too tired
it goes
back and forth
because its owner has expired
Maybe, had I known why, I wouldn’t have spoken at all. Perhaps I will close my eyes and wish the darkness would swallow the limb up and take it away. Perhaps I will watch it to make sure it doesn’t fall on top of me. While I remain vigilant, you have a great day.