On the Edge of Water near Wyngate Mansions
from the series “The Empath Dies in the End”
1 (Carson Pytell)
How far is far? Pat your head and rub your stomach, but do it from the inside of your skin. Near is never enough, like Bermuda or the Caribbean or the houses you pass on your way to work. Mist your days, if you'd like, under envy. Motivation leaks out of you like piss if not. 2 (David L O'Nan) I was and always that most dangerous jewel box Slightly cutting colors out with each touch. I am swinging from your eyelids trying to lift them up to see me. I will dip in from the edge of the water. I come up splintered, thorns inside Punctured me to insecurity. I don’t have the strength to understand the distance anymore. I don’t have enough care to understand the smiles that run slim. Over the Wyngate Mansions on hills full of sad old travelers. I confess that is where I’ll be With stories of lost mates With the chants in my head, promises of endless ruins. The whistles in the distance run to cold air invitations. Biting through heat on the way. Love was given, love was failed at Wyngate on a- troubled Godless day. Ashamed, pathetic voices paddled out half-truths. Was it rain or sun or was it the new flood as fate, My body near, far, an imitation of a water’s edge. Visually vacant. Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. Paperback & Kindle version of Cursed Houses is now available from David L O’Nan on this link below Carson Pytell: Best of Poetry Showcase
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