Joint enterprises enfold wafting ways,
librae, solidi, denarii,
the capital for window flights,
page serifs winging sacred texts,
grave accents marking hopes for bridge,
all under wraps, searching both
for inner and
for outer ways.

Yet every time the baby cries,
helpless gasp, infusing breath
we see a truth evading us,
relying on another love,
receiving gift, not on loan,
sealed when the bond
has made return.

Stephen Kingsnorth, 67, is retired from ministry in the Methodist Church. He has had pieces accepted for publication by Nine Muses Poetry, VoicesEunoia Review, Runcible Spoon, Ink Sweat & Tears, The Poetry Village, The Seventh Quarry, Gold Dust, From the Edge and Allegro Poetry Magazine. His website:

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1 Response to Gasp

  1. Pingback: Gasp – Poetry Kingsnorth

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