Grounded

Fingers of Wispy Clouds

by Alesia Tarkington

a right good one he was
until she died
and he leapt from a middle rung of the ladder
and began to study grass blades at close range
and draw potatoes and crickets and
things of the earth
wanting, perhaps, to acquaint himself with the things
which would keep her body company
underground
perhaps it would have been better if she’d been
cremated
and, his reason being as surmised,
he could have instead followed the birds of the air,
the clouds, the rings of smoke,
sidestepping but not losing his ground gained
until he vanished into the atmosphere
ethereal as a vapor trail

© Copyright 2002 by Alesia Tarkington. Republished 2003, 2004, 2011, 2014.

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