Just in Case
I sneaked a peak
into my pocket,
saved high against
soon lows,
viewed sky against
bluer woes.
Its rock face climbed,
as I moved on,
one Elvis hip,
sometimes softer
than its nestle of pelvis,
other times grinding
a sharp bend
at bone’s end.
I sneaked a peak
into my pocket,
stashed against
the crash–you know,
where mountain
meets ash; self,
aftermath.
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Drafty poem for the wonderful Michael’s “Get Listed” prompt on Real Toads about a change of direction.
ManicDDaily 
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