In Morph We Trust
There’s something cathartic
about moving. The boxing
of evidence. Transforming
what had been memories
into fresh dumpster feed.
The burning of bridges.
* * *
A roach awoke
after a dream-free night
as a man, amazed
by the status quo,
quantum comfort zone,
the empty essence
of equivocal miracles.
* * *
Existence of ever-changing
places and faces is designed
by an Uncertainty Principle
which snakes like history
around a sixty watt bulb,
crawls into cozy corners
with rogue regrets crusading
for a Manifest Destiny
of ethically ordained hedonism,
dances across dignified dust
caressing hardwood floors
with Painted Desert denial,
sparks longing in the egos
of languidly lost strangers,
crowns the king of chaos
with the curse of hope.
* * *
A man awoke
after a dream-filled night
as the wind, calmed
by the strange change,
instant anxiety escape,
the gravitational immunity
of ethereal substance.
* * *
The fatigue and pain
of moving alone provide power
for catharsis. Every sore muscle,
each bleeding knuckle, all
the ascended stairwells, together
they set us up for a fall.
They negate filters and dissolve
shields, leaving only what is.
About the Poet
Mike Davidson is an attorney, former Assistant Cook County Public Defender, and former college English instructor whose writing has appeared in several journals. He is a a past recipient of an Illinois Arts Council Award in Poetry.