Listening
to Craig Firsdon read one of his poems
The
last thing I remember is picking up black material from one of my socks
I’m
alone ever since my mother passed away in October
I
have no family to speak of
My
friends are the only family I have and they’re all busy with their own families
Am
I feeling sorry for myself? No, not really. It’s just the truth and the truth
will either whip me into shape or retire me as I attempt breaking back into the
human race
Craig
lays it all down in the moment and I’m alone with his generous, genuine spirit
As
I listen I’m reminded how it felt hearing Lincoln deliver the Gettysburg
Address
Yes,
I was there or I like to believe I was because when moments are marked in blood
we must push through history and relive the very best parts of our future and
past selves
The
porn does only so much and the art fills in quite a bit, but there is still
something I’m missing as I look back and see only one set of footprints in the
embryonic snow
Maybe
God was carrying me or maybe just maybe I’ll forever be lost in this empty
space
The
grieving process takes time like standing in line at the airport or sinking
your teeth into a juicy steak
Charles Cicirella
2/7/18
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