“footbridge”

by Grant Moser

this will become a thing like
when mushrooms find a shady
place. a path means bonds and
binds and birds in my palm.

the river goes where it wants;
boundaries are fluid & sedentary
like moths in the summer night.

suddenly there’s different trees
& your name has changed and
everything retains a charge, &
you cut your tongue out of your
mouth and sew it back with tinsel.

i am not in control and the wine
berry will choke out the sun if left
unchecked; like when all those birds
died along the shore because of the
pollen carried on their feathers.

chasms are the safest; moats are
breachable. i will feed you with a long
spoon, you will throw scraps into the
shadows hoping i finding them.

‡‡

GRANT MOSER is a writer living in central New Jersey. He likes to play with words.