Wood creaks underfoot of the night’s only survivor

walking slowly to the door ajar

then again and again and again

ten thousand lifetimes in a single breath exhaled

the mist of it in the cold light of morning

risen over a field of crystal droplets

the dream refracted, the hallway where a shadow walks

its hands grasping smoke of an hourglass burning

while sand and ash falls softly

to cover up the footsteps left behind

I’ve been getting into audiobooks lately. Started with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson, then Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, and today I started No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy. Anyone have any suggestions for other good audiobooks?

Photo by David Werbrouck on Unsplash

8 responses to “Residual”

  1. David this was a very interesting poem. It has such a sense of a ghost walking the same walk over and over never really getting to where it hopes to. Nicely done. Sending you lots of hugs, hope all the family is well. Joni

    Liked by 1 person

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