half-rest
by: Will
I carry a small faith
in the night. there—
in branches.
again in stone. here—
with the smallest
finger poised on brass scales.
tipping the eyelids
wandering south.
Will is a nurse and poem scribbler, living the relatively quiet life of an immutable fire escape. More scribbles @ByThisWillAlone.
That's how it's done. An excellence!
Your poem steals my breath and tips my eyelids towards the light.