Last One Standing
I arrived beneath a gray Ohio sky
embraced by bitter February arms
I was the only to pass through that door
and last to carry on the name
but I paled in her sun of expectation
and I had to create my own.
I’d shown my own sun like she taught me
away from the snow and the glowing autumn trees
into a blue wonder of sand and seas
into a tidal mass of humanity
where nothing is stone
where nowhere is home.
I became fed by a space where my place doesn’t matter
an electrical grid being the ambilical to the gathering
where I drowned in hours of diversion
where I gained monetarily from the conversions
but when I looked to show her, she was gone
under a May rain from the gray Ohio sky.
James G Conzett 06/01/2011