[This week’s Discover Challenge from The Daily Post is to explore the “disciplined poetry” of a list]
Let’s abandon the comfortable safety of solitude
And explore the messy uncertainty of our desire.
Twelve more weeks, then I’m done.
Not the job I want, but the experience could be useful.
Doesn’t sound like much fun, and besides,
My body’s too old to work the lower rungs of a ladder.
Doesn’t matter what I’m running towards
So long as it allows me to run away.
They would hear the fear in my voice
And that fear might plant in their souls.