Day 14 of the PAD challenge. A "crossroads" poem.
three roads converge, the
triple-faced masks stare
down (gas, food, lodging) and she, her hounds
to heel, holds a torch aloft,
small moon of light suspended
to illuminate three roads, torn
over by the weather, ragged
furrows of asphalt forgotten
by the surveyor
which way, then, to turn?
the buzz and hum of electric
lights attract a chorus of
insects, singing....so far you
have come....so far yet
to go
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