In A World of Shadows and Reflections
The man exists only
on the other side of the revolving door –
except revolving doors
by definition
have no sides.
Twin doves coo
in a white birch tree, barren of leaves –
but in a twist of head and fate,
I tread on ravens,
stark in dead limbs.
Whispers caress the shell curl
of a sleeping ear –
as an explosion of imaginary sound
awakens the dreamer,
disturbed by the dream.
A constant and complacent companion
conspicuous in her absence –
paints black pictures on sunstruck walls,
but lives a secret life
between death and darkness.
2 comments
Comments feed for this article
April 19, 2013 at 10:21 am
slpmartin
This poem pulls you into it and makes you ponder each of the stanza…quite nice I think.
April 19, 2013 at 11:00 am
Seasweetie
Thank you, slp.