At Millerton (once) – for Leicester Kyle.

Don’t get too attached to this way station.
It could be a cushion. It might be a cross.

You broke your back to get here and now
you want to stop? You think this is the top?

You think this is home, and friends, and dog
tail going thump thump thump? It’s not. It’s a trap.

Relax. The road is a flood where you, borne
up, are carried off your feet. Relax. Death

for you is sweet: the torrent is taking you way
out over the bar, to no return and who you are.

Tuesday Poem

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About paparoa

Writer and researcher.
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