Roads

I was the stone
Jesus said not to throw.
I sang on Palm Sunday

and ever since I have found
roads to wait beside.

I am courted by drunken tires
and blissful boys
with evil in their winks,

but such is the way
of roads and rivers,
the same as they change.

You think I will never sing again,
that I am smooth of words,
yet I settle in your palm
as if a part of you.

Your pulse slows
down to a cloud;
the breeze you feel
only as coldness
is the aria’s inhale.

Donald Zirilli’s poetry has been published in River Styx, Art Times, Nerve Lantern, Specs, Anima, Iota, Antiphon, Innisfree and other literary magazines and anthologies. He was the editor of Now Culture and the art editor of The Shit Creek Review, and is currently one of the Rutherford Red Wheelbarrow Gang of Five. He and his wife, Dr. Russell, live in Tranquility, New Jersey, with 2 dogs and 3 cats.

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