The Stones Do Not Care
And today, I rise and walk,
and tomorrow I rise and walk again,
and my leg aches, and my leg does not ache, and neither
feels like blood rushing to skin,
and before my muscles tense under touch
I feel the barbed wire's teeth,
and by the time I bleed I am half-past the sting,
but there are days before I understand
the stones do not care,
and discover a second is just long enough
for the sun to become
hibiscus studying its color in a stream.
Ryan Bollenbach is a poet attending the University of Alabama's MFA program. He believes burritos are the highest form of art. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Dialogist, Word Riot, Dark Matter Journal and other publications. Ryan is a reader for BWR and Sweet: A Literary Confection. You can read his media-cetric musings at What Great Larks.