The Ultimate Division

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

We walk alone between our world and sky.

Between the earth and sky we think that we

Are not alone.  The people pass us by

In bustled streets but hardly ever see

Us.  It’s as if we are not here and they

Can never know us.  One of them might ask

Directions—but when told they, turn away.

They go around the corner.  Since our task

Has been fulfilled they don’t remember us.

Both we and they forget that we once met

As they or you get on a slow green bus.

This separation means our lots were set.

  Suppose you gave directions to the gate

    Of Hell.  So what?  We see a separate fate.

© Phillip Whidden