top of page
Britain Rodriguez
xv
what fleeting light
made wary, the perilous plunge
through dim sky thoughts weaken
made to become brittle
ceasing, infertile, becoming
grace of light, and call it profound
the light of a train in a dark tunnel
a consolation for those who are
unaware of the tunnel’s dimensions
to the left, get hit
to the right, get hit
and to whom do I owe?
Life’s architect, god, the creator
Which I call me, tempest, human.
And it ceases, like all things
The train passes with me
And I no longer see its light
And I know no longer
That fleeting light
xi
watched the flame lap up what’s left
a house twice burnt
a tomb well built
enamored by its flesh, its toil
bone, brawn, not enough.
a home built for living
but living is not enough
bottom of page