Saturday 5 May 2018

1 Poem by Mark Senkus


the slow pulse
of the universe
is a story
measured by the
movement of clouds

an ambulance down a thick road
of yellow screaming
has its own story to tell
but we do not listen for long

it is the story
of somewhere else
the story severed
at the tongue
the beginning
the ending
the bleeding taking place where
we will not go

the clouds white in air
have their own story
we gather them to
be counted
like a science

we take them with us
like stitches
like words talking across the sky
we take them with us
to where clouds go.


Mark Senkus lives in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and works as a psychotherapist treating behavioral health disorders such as depression and anxiety.  He holds a Master of Social Work degree.  He writes in the evenings, the mornings and at work while he is on breaks.

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