The Pinnacle of Touch
Chris Cummins
If the pinnacle of touch
Is what to be won
And we are lonely, posing as teams
The confidence of others behind us
Then individually, you and I
Must lose
And parts of us we pray
The neverforgetfulness
Of colder feet than yours
Combined,
The near compliment of knees
Slowly sliding,
Trying to be locked with
Each other, but
Frightened.
Yet the too narrow space which bodies complete
Leaves little room for the closure of thought
Only obscure openings,
Like winding country roads, to get lost on.
(and getting lost is easy)
we could believe that candle flickerings,
shadows, and words trapped on pages
will lead us home to the
warm familiar, but
truth is a guide if home is
the where and what we yearn,
and peace is the
who we want to be.
Is what to be won
And we are lonely, posing as teams
The confidence of others behind us
Then individually, you and I
Must lose
And parts of us we pray
The neverforgetfulness
Of colder feet than yours
Combined,
The near compliment of knees
Slowly sliding,
Trying to be locked with
Each other, but
Frightened.
Yet the too narrow space which bodies complete
Leaves little room for the closure of thought
Only obscure openings,
Like winding country roads, to get lost on.
(and getting lost is easy)
we could believe that candle flickerings,
shadows, and words trapped on pages
will lead us home to the
warm familiar, but
truth is a guide if home is
the where and what we yearn,
and peace is the
who we want to be.
|
Chris Cummins lives outside Buffalo, NY. He teaches English, creative writing and drama as well as directs plays and musicals. He most recently wrote and produced two locally performed musicals. He’s been featured in the Heduan Review, Book of Matches, Literary Heist, The Gilded Weathervane, Buffalo News, and small presses.
|
