Elizabeth G. Howard

—
We are all on the verge
Of something. Like the serene
Beagle standing so still at the
End of his leash, yet shivering
For the ripe time to snatch
That little boy’s dangling sandwich.

We are on the verge of
Swatting the unexpected
Gnat, smashing quick out the
Light of some soul ambling
By just to enjoy our hyacinth
Perfume.

We are all on the verge of tossing
Up our hands and saying
What is the use of these
Shackles I’m dragging, except to
Warn you all I am coming?

We are all on the verge of
Goodbye. We are all on the
Verge of falling
Into the next quicksand. We are
All. All. On the
Edge, the verge, the
Precipice looking down and
Not seeing anything at all,
Not even noticing each other’s
Warm life hanging in the icy air.

We are all on the verge
Together and
Together we are
Ready to jump.