Just as the world tilts forward, and everything sharpens
a horizon that had been balanced
now angles toward descent.
The glittering towers flash like coins tossed in a well
their reflections cutting the eyes
of those who carry hunger in their bellies.
Gold multiplies in invisible rooms
while hands below search for crumbs
palms raw from reaching upward.
We stand on this slope together
some with parachutes stitched from privilege
others barefoot against the ground
skin opening where the slope grows harsher.
The divide is plain as daylight
a banquet stretched across silver platters
set above the emptiness of vacant plates.
The slope deepens
gravity favors the few
dragging everything toward their vaults
their laughter rising like heat from steel.
Still, the rest hold one another
shoulders standing together like scaffolding
eyes searching for a horizon that refuses collapse.
It feels like the pause before acceleration
the second where breath collects
when choice still hovers
whether to surrender to the plunge
or turn the slope itself
into a force that carries us upward
together against the fall.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (3)
Very descriptive narrative. Well done.
I like how everything became almost like a pencil. Sharpened. Ooo the glittering towers. I like how they are described as like coins. The hand below searching for crumbs. Hits me in the feels. The skin bit was when I realised how deep you were going. It really is like that. Gravity favours the few. I like the description here. One of the same. The rest holding the other, their shoulders standing together like scaffolding. 'Force that carries us upward together against the fall' very powerful. And one of my favourite lines. All the best on the challenge 🤗❤️
Love the descriptive poem, thankyou for sharing xx