Bootstraps


I’m pulling myself.   Up by my bootstraps.  I’m

pulling myself up.   By the skin   of my teeth.

I’m pulling myself.   Up.   Blinking, dazed,

 

everything is very loud, very bright.

There  is a   tidal pool     of  gilt   that thrives

in constant change,    pulls the guilty    into the water,

 

pulls the innocent    into the water,

committed   to  drowning,    pulling   the water

over every promised head.   Lay down,

 

lay down your arms, lie down  in clear

water.   Every current carries promise;

every promise bears some kind of fruit.

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