PoetryArtworkFiction
“Her City’s Hold”
In a city park
Where nature lives—
An island of color in a bleak
Or gray sea.
Where humans laugh—
Music, compared to the artificial
And bad noise.
She sits alone
On a stone bench
And weighs out two questions:
Stay or go?
She wants to leave her city—
So many reasons to go—
To exit.
But there are so many reasons to stay as well—
Stay in her hell—
In her dwelling, that she may no longer
Compel herself to try and understand.
Her city is the interval between birth and death.
All Content Copyright © Chris J. Melanson. All Rights Reserved.