some light is invisible me
wrapped up in the blanket
and pyjamas on the porch
soaking up
the heater of the sun
trap
paperwhite a prop
the frequency of screaming
from the flesh
the screen
the page
translated so it means
business as
usual delineate
what cuts bring wrappers
this vivesection a
la mode
oooo that got me Kerrie I am loving the shape and spacing you are developing in your poems
ReplyDeleteyou are a master of the human condition my friend, in all of it's goings
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteA master. I second that.
In the spaces that we make,
everything can hear us scream.
Wow! I can feel (not just hear) that screaming from here. And, yes, a Master (or Mistress) I'll 4th that :)
ReplyDelete