Looking up from the ground
through the metallic taste
of my own blood
& a face sporting fresh bruises,
I notice the intensity of blue sky,
the odd geometry of leaves
on high branches of maples
across the way.
Empty flagpole mocks me
as do the few who remain
after this brief battle for pride,
valor now lost & encapsulated
in that stupid onlooker’s smirk.
It will take some time to recover,
& this is the only certainty.
I try hard to quell thoughts
of starting anew, running away,
changing my name.
Life doesn’t work that way;
I get up & brush off the dirt.
Love “Empty flagpole mocks me.”
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