Poem on a Bus

Only Bread, Only light

I go inside the electric line,
The dream of crows,
Stretched out like a trumpet note,
Upswing, blue, long as ten lives–
Swinging my arms, jouncing,
Flat as a stingray
In fizz of static pulse,
Not a place, but
Where I was always from.

Author: skuusisto

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

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