sat on the floor.
lay down, rested his head
waited to break
wanted to walk around, to pace about
to set foot on a high place
he wished to see the king
who’d tell him, ex cathedra, what to do.
or a horse he could talk to.
with the heaviness of breath wreathing about him
i guess that’s the closest he could get
to seeing a priest
the light ash
tossed to the wind
[published in the Nassau Weekly on November 6, 2003, Volume 25, Issue 9]