Eze perspectives
Does she mean to be my Muse?
that sculpted earth goddess
wondering over my shoulder:
“Why is he turning his back
on the glory behind—the glory
that includes me turning my back
on the same glory to wonder
why he is turning his back on us both?”
Is that inspiration in the glance?
Or condemnation? Or bemused
participation? And what is in
her hand dipping into that
suggestion of a pocket?
A hint? A hope?
A hint? A hope?
Or a hard projectile
about to be bounced,
a wake-up call,
about to be bounced,
a wake-up call,
off my cranium?
We seem to be off to a
rocky start.
We seem to be off to a
rocky start.
Eze, July 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment