Mountain
The car was pulled to the side of the road
a fly on the mountains checks
watching all the others aimlessly enter it’s looming jaws.
Each engulfed and swallowed hole.
The metronome of hazard lights ticking
with the whoosh of iron prey playing counterpoint.
Add the subtle voicing to a symphony of eating death
the heavy breaths of man.
Each inhale deep, rattling and shaking the hairs in his nose.
Hoping that the pant of panic
would divert his burning from his skin like a dog to his mouth.
Stop the tap of salt staining & stinging his eyes.
A facade of failed composer.
Standing on the precipice of fear.
Watching unsuspecting victims vanish.
Although to them,
enlightened in the path with faith
the light will open on the other side.
What snapped the jowls on his faith?
This seemingly easy task.
Enter.
Then Exit.
His rosary must have broken.
Each wooden bead slid slowly overtime
falling from the strings end
pinging off the kitchen floor.
Ticking like the hazard lights,
only not so militant in step.
If only a corner store were near his church.
19.95 for a new one.
If only the string left over were red
and he could change his strips, like Hollywood Stars.
No.
From the charred threads he must bead it back one by one.
Crawling under the dinning room table and behind the fridge and freezer.
Stringing the beads he takes a step
The mountain in his way welcomes him to his path.
