Pride be not deathfor as I’ve
stretched to reach out from these
brambles to cut away the vines
about my ankles to step out on this
promontory you swell in me
like a boxer’s battered nose

distorted & off-colour You flutter
like a fledgling finch demanding
the attention of its mother
You buff yourself to shine
like a showroom convertible destined
for the wrecking yard But still I grasp

for you a rope to grab & release
hand over hand a welcome provision
a helpful infatuation a healthy garden
becoming greener & fuller
& overgrown entangling my feet
& pulling me down

Photo by Włodzimierz Jaworski on Unsplash