Edward Lineberry

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Between Strike and Smoke

If I make a lie of my words with my deeds, at least this moment moves.
The moment could live in a frozen forever. How long I can cool my
voice with silence before my heart freezes. I do not know how long I
can hold on to this deception. I do not know how long I can burn.
Regret means burning forever. Opportunity lives on the head of a match
between sulfur and wood, between strike and smoke. Lost opportunities
are lost, not in a drawer or left behind in the back seat of a rental
car, as was the case with my favorite woolen jacket, but lost in time.
Decisions are made like lots cast, thrown away, word and deed rattling
to a stop within the ring. No place to hold past fragments in my
present heart. I have no regrets for what I have burned.

Edward Lineberry is a writer living in Atlanta. His poetry, fiction, and criticism has appeared in Atlanta Review, January House, Third Street Review, and elsewhere. You can find him online at elineberry.com.