Perfect squares all laid together
prism of a suggested gesture
that in our sleep we feign as secret,
lulling me down
from this way to that.
Shapely shards of purest light,
contained within a boundary tight
backdropped to the velvet black
something calls
from this way to that.
Weaving a tune, all contours, smooth,
shapes cascading justly.
I hear the sirens’ call in reverse,
sussing me thusly
from this way to that.
A liquid paisley oozes over
my orientation
until I’m not located
in any equation.
Drawing me forth
from this way to that.
—-
Complete archive can be found on the Poems page.
This poem was published in the Atop the Cliffs poetry journal on April 8, 2018.
It was also published in Europa Sun magazine, Issue 6, August 2018.
Painting: Equestrian Portrait of Carmen Bordiu-Franco, Salvador Dali, 1974