November Chapbook Thingy - Day 5

For today's prompt, I want you to write a growth poem. This could be psychological or emotional growth, physical growth, or however you'd like to take it. Maybe your poem is about growing hair or growing hungry or growing impatient or...


It started as a way across,
perhaps to a someone, a rich-soiled field,
an opening to sunlight or a place for the giant fire.
The intelligence to cut through. To head directly.
The weeds cleared, the way, by use, made smooth, the bigger rocks rolled away the smaller trampled flat by laden animals working widened a network spokes joining so unending a way across too fast too steep too rough too cold across to what he has and a way to take it how easily his women break and their hair their hair smells different deeper then faster faster load heave all they have how strange they are sightlines followed with wet pavement dry the lily no longer opening at the edge of view and the peaceful too all moving blur fast past the green briefer and briefer the mating sounds of smaller things unheared the rising whisper of our restlessness the music of the world and

it grows.

cement fills in between its arms and freezes into a stage for the reaching and losing of our individual desires the reaching is what matters