Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Robert Verdon, #53, presences


we touch
and the fabric of space-time
buckles slightly;

the dandelion in the vegemite glass
seems unmoved, its water has dried up,
while the clock has not ticked since 1963;

we disengage and leave your
parents’ house
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4 comments:

  1. Myron LysenkoFebruary 17, 2016 at 10:01 AM

    I like the precise images and the tone in this one.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lizz Murphy PoetFebruary 17, 2016 at 11:05 AM

    Goose bumps. Also brings to mind a poem by ... okay will have to come back with that name!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Robert VerdonFebruary 17, 2016 at 12:27 PM

      just popped into my head this morning, more or less :)

      Delete

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