Nothing Stays


Nothing stays where flung
We hang on, grabbing at the unfamiliar
terrain
with burs, seeds, hair, words and feelings,
for a second or a lifetime
surveying the lie of the land
where we lie
before letting go

Why did you think I wouldn’t leave
would stay where I was hung
when a field lies below
smelling of sweet sleep?

Pedestals are lonely seats
their ornate designs clawed by slipping limbs
©Reena Prasad

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