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MISADVENTURE, BY ZELDA CHAPPEL

Certainty comes clean-edged
ink-fenced

in the half-script of Tuesday morning
headlines.

This is how it is.

Whispering, white spaces could tell us nothing
without decoding

but now we know

how they mistook a step
for a jump
watched the air fail to catch their breaths
and leave them shred, scattered
star-like constellations
on salted granite
beds.

When they spoke of misadventure
I doubt this was what they meant.

-

zeldachappel.wordpress.com


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