One way mirror. My words bounce off.
You look through from your dark
on occasion, when curiosity prompts,
watching the puppet dance, writhe,
curse, flail, erratic, jerky, neurotic,
never keeping still, never consistent
a logo-worm wriggling on a hook.
I switch off the light and stand now
in the dark, hoping to see something
non-isotropic in silence, absence
other than random delusions
of your presence based on memory
and the self I deep-shared with you -
the reference you have become.
YOU ARE READING
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
PoetryThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
