I am vertical

I would much rather be on Terra firma.
I am not a hedge with my roots running hither
In earthen soil, sucking up Artesian well water
With mineral derivatives and cemetery remnants—
So that each Spring I may gleam as a green leaf;
Nor am I the embodiment of a garden plowed
Attracting my fair share of grubs and crows,
Knowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a hedge is immortal,
And a vegetable-head’s shorter but more deserving,
I do insist on having one’s long life and the other’s bearing.

This night, in the infinitesimal bright of the neighbor’s light,
The hedge has gone to sleep
Yet, I stand aloft on this wooden ladder strewing sniffles and a cough—
I look rather pitiful, but no one seems to notice.
In between shivers, I dream of a nice warm bed,
Out here, in the cold, sleeping is rather difficult,
I rather resemble a large raccoon with dark circles under my eyes;
My thought processes are growing dim.
It is not natural to me being vertical on a ladder at quarter to three in the p.m.
I have even taken to striking up a conversation with a celestial owl.
So, for heaven’s sake, would someone come and throw me a lasso!

Copyright © 07/21/18 lance sheridan®


This entry was posted in Poetry.

74 comments on “I am vertical

  1. Anna says:

    What are you doing on a wooden ladder over three in the morning? It is difficult to stand vertically at a minimum height! Sometimes living becomes a challenge, not so for the hedges 🙂 Always a great pleasure to read you, Lance

  2. rabirius says:

    Excellent thought and words.

  3. How beautiful, deeply sensitive and emotionnel is your poetry! Thanks lancesheridan

  4. ortensia says:

    I love it love it love it.
    I read it in one breath and the end is perfect.❤️

  5. Lona Gynt says:

    I see symmetry with Samuel Beckett, “Waiting for Godot” is this a fan-fiction sequel, did Lucky bring the ladder and some more suitable rope? Is this Vladimir or Estragon waiting on the ladder? I may be off base, but I get a sense of the absurd that succinctly seems to carry on the “story.” The tincture for such absurdity is the bond we have with each other, even if absurdly short, it replicates, it continues at least until the last measure of entropy is exacted and we sink under the waves of our collapsing star. But I feel a tug beyond that, and we and our posterity will wait, it is our legacy, a hedging against the cold dark, the idea lives on no matter what Nietzche or bright eyes may have sung about it. So what is left when we have been able to look above this hedge into the dark? That we can wait together, at least until we cannot. It may be mediated by some screen or pixel, but when I read your words I am comforted in some measure and feel joy in the infinitismal bright that someone waits with me. I, my friend will wait a season with you.

  6. My first visit to your page and you have lassoed me. I shall be returning often.

  7. anne leueen says:

    You have no fear of heights. But this has led you to an awkward place at 3 in the night atop a sleeping hedge.

  8. Anna says:

    Ripasso per un saluto .Buona serata ,Lance 🙂

  9. Thank you once again, Lona!

  10. Reading your poetry is always a revelation. In this case, I am in awe of your incisive sense of humor.

  11. Katherine says:

    That is really Good, Mr Lance!
    I appreciate this poem very much.
    Have a nice week! 🙂

  12. Daniela says:

    Beautiful poem ! Can I use one of your poems for my special “table” 🙂 in my cafe ?

  13. almerighi says:

    ottima poesia che troverai presto tra i miei gioielli rubati, un caro saluto dall’Italia, come sempre

    excellent poetry that you will soon find among my stolen jewels, a warm greeting from Italy, as always

  14. well composed, great word selection… and needless to say, pure poetry

  15. Equipping says:

    Thanks for your like of my posts; you are very kind.

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