Poetry: Call Me Cunning; by Josh Smith

Call Me Cunning

by Josh Smith

I poke hornets’ nests.
I run toward the bright light of a fire.
I drill holes in the ice that supports me.
Call it incredible, call you incredulous,
call me in…sane!

I’m never careful about what I ask for.
I take three hits to give one — a trait I can’t replace,
a gift I can’t return.

I’ll hear caution, a whisper on the wind,
tickling my ear when I say…

A swan dive death, with bated breath I’m told, wake up!
But I can’t die, I can’t lie paralyzed in a bed.
I’m beyond death, and beyond broken bones.
I’m beyond danger, and beyond fear.

I fly in a death-proof bodysuit, and I poke wolverines’ nests!
I run toward the bright lights of Chernobyl!
I drill holes in glass ceilings!

Call it ridiculous, call you a disbeliever,
Call me out…to play.

About the author


News and art, national and local. Began as alternative weekly in 1990 in Buffalo, NY. Publishing content online since 1996.

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