Diary Entry on a Disconnected Day
There is something
in the day that has disconnected.
Syntax has gone awry
with distance stretching further
than thought
and sentences stranded
in a silence left by words
that have fled the tongue.
And then there is that shadow
falling across passing time,
its shape giving no hint
as to what it is, growing
when eyes look away,
then appearing in a glance
like a shadow
caught on an X-ray.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2024
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