trapped outside the prison gates

dark grey clouds outside,
a hint of rain in the air,
my bones can feel it.
I am so
tired,
in a way that no sleep can mend.
tired of worrying
about a future I cannot control
or predict.
I would like to feel important,
I would really like to feel unique.
As if there aren’t millions exactly
like me, as if I’m not
replaceable in every respect. As if
it wasn’t certain beyond doubt
that history would unfold
in exactly the same way
whether I existed
or not.
I see you, suddenly,
and take a quick, short, breath

as you move in closer) your scent surrounds me,
earth, rain, and skin.
your lips, damaged but soft, burn
against mine.
my heart pounds harder and faster,
then it audibly skips a beat.
I close my eyes
and slowly let
this
world
fade (you move away,

back to your work.
the rain trickles down the window.
my coffee is just a hint colder.
my screen stares back at me,
no single extra word written in my
Project Description.
I’m really not good at this
grant-proposals-business. is it
time for a change, a different job maybe?
Am I too old for change? Too
irrelevant?

______

a tribute to e. e. cummings

trapped outside the prison gates by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License

ravens

it happened one day as ordinary as the next.
some would’ve called it a Tuesday;
they would be right.
he was walking down the main street,
the buzz of cars and people surrounding him,
the smell of gas and garbage filling his nostrils,
the sun staring warmly at his back.

and then,
his right knee started jerking,
a pitch black raven burst from it,
detached itself and flew clumsily away.
then another, slightly smaller raven,
rose up from his left shoulder,
and took off.
then another and another,
from his face, his heart, his toes.
one moment his shape was still recognizable,
the next only a few, purple-black feathers
were left where he once stood.

now, if one were able to follow each raven’s path,
to witness their story,
they would see them flying to the corners of the earth
finding people of all shapes and sizes,
bringing them food,
bringing them flowers,
a few coins here and there,
sitting on their balconies,
watching the sunset with them,
or waiting out the storm.

what they wouldn’t be able to see,
is the ravens getting back together,
ever again.

______

ravens by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License