I Was Almost

Only Bread, Only light

All day the sounds of wings. I must have been half mad. I could hear the vestigial wings of crickets and wings that mourn their beauty and wings so small they’d been forgotten by God.

I could not tell the cashier about this while cashing my check; couldn’t say a word about my loving private sphere. Outside I gently touched a leaning bicycle. Like I was the Pope or something; I gave a stranger’s bicycle a blessing. I heard wings and wings and moved inside my clothes almost like a musician. Walked all the way up a hill just to feel grass against my legs.

Called forward by a finch whose eyes were stars. I had some folding money in my pocket. Everything that is most beautiful drifted through me. I enforced my skin to admit of fast moving clouds. I was almost…

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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