POEM: "Those Bridges, Those Bones"

Those Bridges, Those Bones

                                 When you have eliminated the impossible
                                            whatever remains, however improbable
                                                      must be the truth...


Not so fast, Sherlock
eliminating impossible
if it takes too long
to deduce improbable

Trust an old girl
galloping on a horse
that the old hills where
she rests are real

Impossible now
without a horse to get
there if truth needs
to swim a swollen river

Not there last week
the truth rising as
improbably as
what besets the mind

That always looks
for what remains
improbable as that seems
crossing to impossible.


© 2014 Rob Schackne