The Darkness At Noon
In this my own midnight of temporary madness
awash in the anxieties of fearsome chasing shadows
the sheets are hot
the pillow no longer cold on either side
the clock switches gears
rotates sideways...torques
flips back...and then shakes
parts spatter the blue canvas ...across the red screen
a sudden vastness of wash and clime befalls me
shearing me
down down.... down into sand so deep I am Atlantis' lover
fingers of time's hand flicker across my lost perspective
move me...like ticking magma across
the broken shells of my once so beautiful breakfast hour
it oozes over dainty lunch...then dashes dinner plates
confusion has fallen on this...my mid day mind...made me madder still than midnight
and kookier than my lover can stand
he groans audibly from across the house
Where am I going now?...this changes everything
the use of linen table clothes and plate sizes
have ceased to hold weight and matter
and this my lovely broken tea cup is no longer bad karma
it is an old dear beloved friend
from whom I never ever wish to be parted
Copyright © Ingrid Showalter Swift | Year Posted 2014
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