Monologue Poem by Abraham de la Torre

He sits by the cliff
Sheltered by the cold breeze
Finding its company
In his bones
The sky is a silent projection of calm
Unlike before the storm
Even the birds are wingless in their flight
Foreshortened
He is eyed by a fish
Laughing at his invisible line
It bites imaginarily
There is no ripple from the vast expanse
Of noiseless space
It is eerie but softly
A waylaid leaf perches on his head
And drops to the ground
Unnoticed unfelt
The cold lifts it up and illustrates
A long lonely
Leisureless trip.