Permission Slip

Can I go?

Mother may I

step away from the parade?

Lay my head down

on heather fields,


with the newness of Spring.

Maybe I will walk

between the beach

and the waves.

The surf will give me form,

where I had long ago

given up my own.

Can I get a moment’s grace?

Just five,

or ten more days?

That’s all I need,

then I’ll be steam;


I’ll evaporate.

Wherever the wind blows

is where I’ll go.




I’m off to find

which failure I’m to face,

and fight a war again.


HG – 2019

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