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.
As it Comes 
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Chin up, love. Nature is most resilient. This too shall pass.
LikeLiked by 1 person
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
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Frank. Praise indeed.
LikeLike