The Call of the Poet

Some poet caught the scent,
left his bill and a surplus tip,
rushed through the door to summon
himself on the bridge,
where he cast out his thought
across the gorge
and when it echoed back,
he scrawled the words
onto his arm,
marvelled the catastrophic
calligraphy from his wrist
to his elbow,
sighed with relief
and went home.

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