Stuck In Staccato

You tumble up and down, flailing arms and thrashing legs

{as though straining to catch mercy}

You topple from airless heights and stagger from lousy caverns

{never content}

You have a clear voice that captures attention

{your best attribute}

Every muttered curse seems as lilting sonnet

{however far from poetry it may be}

With a single word, you cast, lure, and catch

{your fish never are as brilliant as they first seem}

Your eyes are sharp

{as a grappling hook}

You move fast

{as though on the run}

You search with thickened, graceless fingers

{clumsy from cold}

You go in deep

{you were good at that}

But come up empty

{it’s not as though you wanted them anyway}

You need no shadow

{though there were many volunteers}

Clipped though you are
Choppy though you live
You seem to survive

{though sometimes just surviving isn’t enough}

Your notes are bright, but your key is haunting
Stuck, stuck,
Stuck in staccato.