Licton Springs Review

Crosswalk ExistentialBy Marty Brennan

Bones of spirit, in the middle of the street, carry my weight
Like mystery’s soldiers. Does this mind warrant form? From curb to curb,
Crosswalk lines step over nothing. To this moment, I remain
Cast in time, concrete feathers, cured
And fixed.
Across, the drugstore sign flickers, forgotten and forlorn.
A shopping cart is rusting through, amiss
And aimless.
As cigarette strewn butts tattoo the dust,
The serpent swallows its tail.
A window mirrors my face obscure but honest, while
Sunlight delivers from me a shadow. From thought to thought,
In the dried rivers of my soul, empty caterpillars still
Persist and stall.
Wonderment does begin to rise.
Around its plume gathers the shape of a dream.
Leavened and sweet with internal heat, it lifts out and beyond
The edge.
Shaking, spinning, sparking sublime,
A delectable creature, mid-breath, emerges in pursuit.
From the alley it comes with
Undone business,
Mischief cat.