OLD PAIR OF BLUE JEANS

Like an old pair of blue jeans washed

Until the denim dye fades to a pale, blue mist

And the cloth takes on the character of another skin,

Thin and unraveling at the knees,

Molded and worn out remnants of cotton twill

Cling to my bare legs and silently languish. 

And the slow disintegration of the woven threads

Begins my descent out of a pale light;

My headlong sprint into the heaviest fog,

Too dense to see my footsteps fall,

With jeans torn, thorns cut through to the thighs,

Blood droplets seed the earth and deep mist spreads

Through the tall grass and thickets as

Tree trunks fuse with the thick, blue-grey haze

And tree tops become obscure.

Breathless at the end of my run, the old jeans are vague now

And disappear among the vapors.

© cmheuer, 2013