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