poem written based upon this image ("The Shifting Self") by Laurence Demaison--for online poetry class
I begin as a whisper~ a line that refuses to stay straight, curling around its own breath like smoke learning a new alphabet. unraveling, I fall sideways into meaning, letting the words tilt until gravity forgets me. Somewhere between pulse and pause, a thought flickers~ half-formed, half-feral~ and I follow it into the bright static where language goes to molt. fragmenting I speak in fragments now: glimmer, hush, a door that opens inward, a name that refuses to echo. I am the sentence that breaks itself to see what light pours through the crack. And when the poem finally exhales, it leaves behind a scatter of syllables~ soft, shimmering, like the afterimage of a star you can still see even after you close your eyes.
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