The following poem comes from Read Write Poem’s prompt #83 – a “wordle” that looks like this.

SEANCE

I’d like to burn intentions into a powder stump,
apply a pinky’s worth atop my tongue

for later when loitering souls stop in
to talk about the aftertaste of wasted meat and bones.

It’s too late to caution Thomas not to take
that river plunge, to yell, “Hold tight to the rope,”
instead of “Jump.”

“Grab the fallen log,” instead of, “Go with the flow.”

“Fight as if your life will end,” rather than

“Surrender, let go.

Come tell me what it’s like when you’re there.”

the city
built a river walk
atop the dike
in spots
where floods come
every few years
and when they don’t
the river goes
pregnant
then barren
and back
thru spring
and summer,
freezes in time
for snow,
never hard enough
to walk across
as my mother said
all those years
I didn’t try
but even
for those who did
and got across
they enjoy the view
with their kids,
explain how it’s not much
to pass,
but better
on a bench
in those moments
when the swell
is high,
nice to look at,
ramp access
for wheelchair guys
like Stan
who fell thru
on a dare
but doesn’t hold
a grudge.