I heave a sigh
releasing a torrent that sends shivers across
harmonious surfaces of dead, polished teak – made to smile,
prettily tweaked, still incomplete and devoid of life.
rivulets of grain and inlaid ponderings that pour
along the courses set out for them, unhindered by a sheen,
that is aloof – forbidden topical superficiality is not allowed.
I defiantly blow
sending streaming particles to dance to my tune,
sending sloughed off shredded memories to scatter
as they reminisce in the air, before the cold light of day
and realisation sinks them down to earth.
with my sticky fingers the crazy superficial glaze of the everyday –
its gloss and grandeur picked off by an intrusive sun drowning out
all that is vulnerable – it reminds me of the heartbreak behind real
wood and the heartbreak of real life.