Shantih Journal | Page 35

5

Like Crane’s bedlamite — I nervously

descended down the bridge.

The carrier swinging

like a pendulous evil — sinking,

we slid down its side.

I felt myself inside the weight

of the carrier — lifted by a force

beyond me — maybe trapped

or freed.

6

We steal something

of value — with no intentions

of returning it.

7

We pick a sepulchral

corner over the damp land —

place the old cat in the shadows

hoping our effluvia won’t reach the living

but only to inspire them.