clcouch123

O, quiet steps to take—or maybe
kicking rocks to reach the top—to change
it all, once I am over.

Moving, taking steps toward what is next,
for now unseen. The future matters; so does
now: plan, prepare; celebrate, go

But the steps that climb, I climb,
and what they mean. To make the steps
real, ideas must turn with

questions made into commitment: Who
am I? And you? What do we want?
What might we have now, and

what must wait? Here, the steps are life as is,
relenting to what’s raw and incomplete—life
beyond the metaphor, though the metaphor of

steps inspires. And so, dear steps, I talk with you
and thank you. Then turn to the actual one
close by to ask: Will you plan with me? Will

you help me draw the lines of steps to make
a path and then to fill them in?
Will you help me, metaphor in life?

Please do.
I’ll step up or down
for you.

In Skin
The skin I’m in is thin. Veins of red and blue reign through. Freckles heckle purity. Nails take in so much dirt, I don’t know why. I wail; I cry. The spire of this is amiss but for this. What I have, I have. I shave, I clip, I cleanse, I comb. The skin over leg and lip, the hurts I cut on the earth I roam. But this, this, is always home.
C L Couch

Choose a gift not chosen

His is taken from the frozen

Rite from lore of old

Is taken from a place of gold

So real was he at one time

Though what remains is known in rhyme

Or illustrated in the book

Please, new children, take a look

His name, my name

Ever real—that’s the game

Real person, character’s glance

Rarely remembered in the chance

Over anyone reading like a stone

Beyond looking beyond the bone

In finding out he’s real, man

Named in life, in tales ran

As his father can

Hi, coo, hi, hi, hi
hers and his an on-line hate
of screen-hits and hype

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