where the road split 

An erroneous and inexorable
theatrical disaster has been placed

at the foot of my bed.

Where the road split

decisions had come to be made

unplanned, as decisions are made.

And now we are in a different room,

with all our stuff remained

the same.

The towers of

indecision have come

to topple in our motionless way.

Where am I, now,

to place my bed—

now that the road has been changed?

I find myself staring

mouth agape

at the split in the road

where the room was changed.


was where you went one way,

and I was left alone.

And now, that spot

where the road was


is erupting.

Is erupting.

Is erupting in flames.



 copyright: C. Ward 2016


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