Blowing Bubbles

If she had to cross the rubicon for lack of sorting colours A Rubik’s cube remained an unsolved puzzle If numbers granted her the wish to live another happy day Sudoku would refuse transformation from a maze If chess could move to manifest the pawn’s hopeless plight She’d marry black and white together If life dealt yet another set of hands tied to brave surrender A poker face turned red hot poker in her eye But when emotions garnished poetry and muses’ feathers Ink fell into place from selfless fountain quills Quite possibly she is unbalanced on a spread sheet of lost time And yet her pen embraces harmony with words Pythagoras still dangles angles and straight lines in broken sequence But there is no bloody razor in Archimedes’ bath She has no rubber duck but sails with Poe’s dark ravens Unfolds her plaits for darkened Sylvia When foam caresses treasure island in her tub at night She sails the seven magic oceans A dolphin croaks another oracle at Delphi’s flood gates As she postpones hemlock for another day When she reaches cataracts of blurry vision in despair Zero sum games twist algorithms of illusion She cannot square roots and circles will not divide her prime However much adding up fracture pulls the plug Regardless of whether steam or tears moisten her parchment The misty fog finds metaphors to embrace healing 24th January 2020