Poem: Dead End in December

By Bryan Thao Worra

When you leave me, don’t think
You’ve truly gone.
You’re fastened to too many gluons
And neurons, anchored to this gray
Beneath bone between wood and wave.
Don’t believe you’re some seagull.
You haven’t wings.
Sitting by the seaside, these planks
Of ancient piers,
Let those ships sail on without you.
You try to live like everyone else.
You try to mind your business.
You get married, you have your children,
But you will return.
Whether from Y’ha-nthlei,
Antarctica, some Plutonian bay,
The call is deep, relentless,
Your true fate an old cobblestone
Set in place, long ago,
When we first began to howl together,
Pledging faith from the same shadows.

Bryan Thao Worra’s poetry collection Demonstra will be released by Innsmouth Free Press in 2013.