A Man Hanging by a Thread
He is sitting at an outdoor cafe in a small town
Outside of Paris. He is wearing a navy blue suit
With fine gray pinstripes. He is having a coffee.
He is enjoying a pastry. He is reading a newspaper.
He is barefooted. He is hanging by a thread,
Fingertips locked in a life and death struggle,
Locked on the edge of a steep cliff, a precipice,
Jagged rocks below, the incoming tide swirling
Around, and occasionally over, the rocks—
Swirling white and foamy, the roar of the waves
Resounding against the cliff wall. It is warm.
Above, the sky is blue and clear, the gulls raucous.
The scene is both surreal and stereotypical.
It is a metaphor. Look at the man. Look at the sky.
Poetry by jim
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Written on 2019-12-27 at 16:28
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