The Fear is Real Poetry
like some wild horse chained
to his stall just ripped out
the post & chewed on the links
& got free & burned down the barn
so he could see
the moon dance
an irish amazing reel
& ran & ran & ran
until the sweat poured
like honey
& the wounds
cleaned the
tired Arabian
trail
that’s what this honesty
tells me rip out the post
& i never knew my father’s
loneliness & i never knew my mother’s
fear although i wore them like
hard saddles
there’s plenty of time
to die
stones on the road
shattered glass
.
by Jim Bell
from Crossing the Bar
Slate Roof: A Publishing Cooperative, 2005
.
.