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 