he squats beneath 

his stone bridge 

alone in the dark 

like a hungry troll 

who waits on a lost traveler 

to stop momentarily  

between her lies and his 

as she peers into the mist 

that waits below for her 

in the ever-widening crevasse 

(February 10, 2021)


  1. subtextures says:

    Thanks, I appreciate the comment. There is always more, yet this is all there is to this poem. It is, however, one of a projected series of 140 poems. Each one grows out of the one before, like crystals, or the infinite lotus growing from the sleeping Vishnu. (Okay, now I’m becoming pretentious). Thanks again for the comment.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Aparna says:

    Hi! I absolutely adore your poem; its gentle and romantic and makes me wish there was more!

    Liked by 2 people

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