Crane-Fly

As though running - in borrowed legs,
He lumbers across the table-top,
Lurching forward,
Then to the right
And to the left -
Pauses for a breath
And tries to remember
How to collapse with dignity
On Inarticulate limbs.
Not knowing
Where he's been
Or where he's headed
Or why he is
Where be is now,
He sways
As he weighs up
the situation.
He remembers the window
Where half a life-tine
Was wasted
In a hasty flight To nowhere
Unable to go where
Far horizons called.
And sliding,
Dropped by
Anonymous opposition,
On wings that didn't work
Onto legs that wouldn't work.
Unstable,
But back on the table
On those ponderous haunches,
He wanders if another launch is
Out of the question.

by Terry Donovan

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