we remain rootedly positioned
between scylla and charybdis*
the chasm that separates us
to your truth, or mine.
clash- two worlds colliding
yours a rock and mine a hard face
your forlorn forced inflections
emanating from the belly of your god.
my belligerent brawling outbursts
clutching tight the hand-
of absolution sure demise.
just once, can’t we beg off?
let hoar fog obscure our fracas
cleanse us both in salt sea brine
cast off weighted chain and anchor
just once, let dead dogs lie??
foundation built of rock, on hard place
just this once- oh mother mine?
Word Count: 99
*The idiom ‘between Scylla and Charybdis’ has come to mean being between two dangers, choosing either of which brings harm.