By Leo Honka
There’s a place by the heart,
possibly nearer to the soul,
where eyes gasp for air, in their own pain
Amid arid and warped hills
Grass blades sagging like broken horses
on desolate plains expanding endlessly in all directions.
Abandonment is a lonely place where I long to be.
Despite the masochism, the empty chants inside your head
rooting you on
your deepest pain and loneliest hour.
When confronted by so much adversity
you usually roll with the punches
and die in an instant.
I’m now here in this wretched and fridge-weather place
If you granted me one wish
I’d certainly ask you to cover and warm me like a blanket!