HEARTACHES

HEARTACHES

By the time I fill up to the brim,

I‘d have coughed up sediments

of crushed stones, jagged pebbles

and the craw-sticking bone chips

that remain from downstream

sieving for the one golden nugget

that was never there. I thirst still. 

But the summers of our pine city

refuge have come and gone, too,

with our windy spaces, now left

as frozen wind tunnels when you

abandoned the cone-strewn trails

for your will-o’-the-wisp: a full

bowl of nectar laced with laughter. 

---Albert B. Casuga

07-10-11

Prompt: Heart grown gray, heart/tressed with care: tell me why/the bowl never seems to fill…/though I’ve poured all the sweet/water I could find, countless trips/through the years—From “Petition to Fullness” by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 01-09-11