|Jan/Feb 2017 Poetry|
© 2016 Elizabeth P. Glixman
The Ache of Lack: A Play in Words
For lack of a cornice, a mortise, a purpose
or in want of solace, the solstice (more notice!)
who does not yearn for justice—a lattice
or perhaps merely a serviceable poultice?
You veer toward the precipice to practice
your sacrifice, but cowardice prevents you.
You need an accomplice, or at least
an apprentice to help stage your next caprice.
Once safe from the pious or pretentious
we'll drink from the sinuous chalice.
No need to be jealous of another's prowess—we can all
splash about safely right here in the deep serendipitous.