Did something shift
when love’s thoughts shuffled
centre?
Antsy, fidgety fingernails’
pin prick strikes
scramble
on the surface
tapping like an ice skater’s toe;
becoming skewed.
Reasons misalign
inside of silver hair,
tense, strained
copper wires
inside of a feeling
are stretched, misread
trembling sentiments
misfiring and gone awry –
askew, off centre,
nonsensical
like leftover bread that has
gone stale and black specks of mould
begin to eat the crust first,
eaten with dulled eyes –
duller senses –
a definite shift;
a paradigm’s lament
becomes manoeuvrable,
mobile
and not scared at all
to pull the rug out
and let us spill
like crumbs.
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Love this! Love the Escher too. This felt as though I was off balance reading it. Not sure if you were going for that, but a nice effect nonetheless.
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Thank you, Michael. But yeah, I tried to create the disturb of a natural balance and realisation that something is off…even though by that time we are hanging onto the rails of a sinking ship.
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Chin up, love. Nature is most resilient. This too shall pass.
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A gorgeous illustration for your slightly off-centre poem, Anita. We should be, at least once, a paradigm’s lament.
Very nice work here.
Frank
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Thank you Frank. Praise indeed.
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