Photo by NeuPaddy | pixabay.com | CC0 Public Domain

Duncan’s Ghost

Twins in the air locked
in parallel patterns.
Just when I fear
convergence they veer
East and West. While below
a patchwork of roof-tops lie,
asphalt lines threading through.

Though his barque cannot be lost
yet it shall be tempest tossed…

It’s lonely in air flying alone
surrounded by white noise.
And beside me boys
sit, eyes burning, fried
luminescent from the glow
of electronic escape

Is this a dagger I see before me…

In-flight coffee still tastes good
black — but there’s plenty bitter
after-taste in my mouth.
I don’t know when or if
I can wash it clean —

Hell is murky…
What’s done cannot be undone

Lord and lady can you commiserate?

If you enjoyed and want to enable the poet’s coffee addiction, please do!