A Poem by Steve Gerson

“I can find my way,” 
I said, myself at 21, 
my black and white world

aligned at right angles, 
the horizon a crosshair 
centered polestar straight.

“I see a light,” I
said, myself at 41,
“and fly toward it,”

in row-beat meter
to climb steep sky inclines
but glide winded down,

dimmed, a crow molting.
“I’ve been,” I said, myself now
61.  My bifocaled

view more askew, my
gray a teetering cairn, wobbled
on rounded edges.

Steve Gerson, an emeritus English professor from a Midwestern community college, writes poetry and flash about life’s dissonance and dynamism. He’s proud to have published in Panoplyzine (winning an Editor’s Choice award), The Hungry Chimera, Toe Good, The Write Launch, Route 7, Duck Lake, Coffin Bell, Poets Reading the News, Crack the Spine, Riza Press, White Wall Review, Variant, Abstract, Montana Mouthful, the Decadent Review, Indolent, Rainbow Poems, Snapdragon, The Underwood Press, Wingless Dreamer, Gemini Ink, and In Parentheses.