to tread

our traffic follows wakes: it would seem you

weigh out your steps with afterthoughts and

the spaces left fill nonetheless

 

the turning of snow shows: we wish

to walk without leaving tracks behind

until the days we were are not

 

yet still we don’t erase regardless:

clues are scattered, the paving bends before

memories of spring arise unbidden

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

14 responses to “to tread

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