#Poem Awkward Traffic

Awkward traffic skirts the general fever of Post Office
and village stores. I rest on a bench in the shade of the
Cross Memorial and look out through the heat shimmer
at the warped reflections and glare of the shop windows.
Near me there are a dozen bleached wreaths, forgotten
remembrance, and a brass list of the fallen

An unexpected light blinds and infects
My thoughts turn sinuous, like cordage,
chunky ropes stretching sailboat cloth
surfing the pitch and yaw
a tonnage of waves sinking, rising

Someone’s daughter carves
dirty curves sunwards, venus-star
Perceptions shudder, smack into me
Rolling elements transubstantiate
lump together –
an embryo is forged

I am implanted, corrupted –
maybe I always yearned to be this way –

you will need imagination
you must side-step, explore other worlds
You will get tired, lose the thread

The child drinks my blood
always thirsty
but I love my child

A disease
at last –
now, I am human


One thought on “#Poem Awkward Traffic

  1. Pingback: #Poem Awkward Traffic | Ash2

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