prayers

the prayers skipped out

lackadaisically

no destination even imagined

a shot in the dark

with no target

person, paper or god

or they traveled

haltingly

no matter their urgency

like the damp whisper of a snail

on a six inch journey across a stone

or at the speed of light

blazing unseen into some dark corner

of the universe

or maybe they just sat nearby

on the sill of a window

closed to time and space

waiting

yet the response

was quick and blunt

like a lightning bolt

to the deadened brain

giving no relief

only numbness

but even not feeling was a better answer

than no

Barry DeCarli

July 9-14, 2017

On South Street

©Barry DeCarli