Stumbling into morning,
vague, unremarkable,
perhaps befitting a glance,
or a glancing blow to the jaw.
Stay cool in the thunder room,
soft pressures of mine
and mine alone,
impugned with the round
ticks
in a chipped cup
thick with lip
and quivers.
Vague, unremarkable,
perhaps befitting a glance
or a glancing blow to the jaw,
I must take that first uncertain
step into a quickening,
allow the hinge its creak,
allow the sun its stumbling gait,
that I, busted on the jagged even,
may return and find myself
vague, unremarkable –
alive.
Image: Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash
Sweet and Bitter Greens 
Devon, great flow and thought combine to make an exceptional penning.
Thanks, Lance. You are very kind. Humbly, Devon
You’re very welcome, Devon.