Fault Lines
Mea culpa mea culpa mea maxima culpa–
mostly, I say it sans latinate hoopla.
I’m sorry, my fault, like the big San Andreas,
cracks me in two–the scales that do weigh us
find me as lacking, as far from perfection,
as star from Mariana’s entrenched mid-section–
it’s not generalized failing–that much I know–
but what wrong I’ve done, I will not say now.
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A poem of sorts for Mama Zen’s Words Count on With Real Toads--to write a confession in 65 words (or less.) Just made it, without title.
Process note–the Mariana’s Trench–deepest place in the ocean.
ManicDDaily 
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