Still Life
Still Life
maybe it isn't moving
deception easily framed and hung
look again
rods and cones release their quick reply
darkness swept up in light
the names crossed through stay in my head
day or two of soft revision
slipping on the water polished rocks
that line the downstream face
no matter it isn't here
same thought follows me out the door
metal frame around what could be
still life of slow erosion
in a soft flowing drift my hand
is closing around the knot
that pulls from all that possible
one teasing moment after another
flowers leaning towards the light
I feel the iambic kiss of air
I can't help but play along
a spot of ink on the asphalt fabric
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