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Divergence a Poem by Joan Pond


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                                                                                                        by Joan Pond

He reads the tracks of my tires
in the snow.
Deciphering the hieroglyphs;
a simple acrostic of lines.
It’s nice to know I’m defined
by the pattern of my tread.
Inside, he said the writing on his wall
holds a pattern,
as stars in the galaxy.
He will make sense of this Babel,
while I stand by the door
wanting to leave.
How can I deceive him into thinking
I have somewhere else to be?
He had been my universe,
but that was long ago
and our orbits
no longer converge.

                                                     Copyright © 1998 by Joan Pond, All rights reserved
Contact Joan at [email protected]

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