Poem: “Chalk”
April 22: 30 days of new poems for National Poetry Month
Published in
Apr 23, 2024
Chalk
Numbers and flow. If this is our choice, I choose
flow. In my marketplace of soul, we don’t profit
through sales, only trades. And don’t talk to me
of animal spirits unless you’re willing to suck the
marrow from a bone and pick your teeth with its
splinter. In fact, don’t talk to me at all. You smell like
death. And just exactly who forsook who at Golgotha?
At Zuccotti Park? In Homestead, Pennsylvania?
There is no romance here. No kisses and betrayals.
No sexual energy or covert desire. Nothing but the
cold hard facts of gain and loss. You’re either the road
or the kill. And the question remains: After the white
outline is chalked and your body is rolled up and taken
away, which is the better symbol? The circle, or the line?
