Leveler Poetry Journal
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Ambition

 

A threadbare sheet, a face

to kiss upon

casually as windowed glance

checking for rain

 

do not feel yours.

 

During sleep-laden hours reaching

for an empty glass

 

or light left burning, feeling

muscles perform

 

differently with age,

you cannot doubt the veracity of your failure

 

nor question, when removing night moths

windowsill’d looking

 

to a garden all-animal’d and sunlit,

the once-possible,

 

like hunting

mammoths w/ fist

 

-sized rocks.  You again

press wall to hand,

 

pine for the world to lie

across your bed, and mouth

 

you’ll not need to

feign interest

 

for what will be done.




Aaron Plasek