The Last Ambition
09 January 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: desire and gravity
The stakes buried so only the bitter have to tangle with the obstacles, the last ambition of the night falling on its face, tripping towards the door, ice, snowed streets outside
might be fireworks in a couple minutes, still won’t be fucking warm enough to watch them…except struggling home on Broadway, latched to you by the side, the curb a polis for the cigarette butts we keep lighting
I doubt I talked about anything real, probably complaining, wanting home, wanting that imaginary fire light up the -34 plus windchill, New Year’s, and can’t find
the cab anymore, buses stopped running one or two cars stopped at the great Osborne lights, not drifting through the intersection, three blocks away I can see the black shapes of people who move, not the statuary of the Legislature
brown streaks road beside the piles of slush curbside, now beyond dark, in my head, trying to twist on, and keep on, and the need for sleep is closing in quick, quick.
J.D. Harms 2021
Prompt:
Today’s prompt, desire and gravity, asks for you to consider a situation where what you wanted and what you wanted were in conflict. Desire is its own kind of gravity, but there are…
