Wednesday, September 4, 2019

See-thru


She turns to words
and they turn on her-

And in that deafening silence,
it was too serene
to make a scene.

Paper froze
on her
and condensed its icy pulp
into a dull reflective surface
whereby sharp-windows-
the squinted eyes
circled in hoarfrost
which blurred
the edges
of a thousand panes,
simply knowing these as
thin margins between
virginal definitions
making lighter 
inside-out.




Painting by Maurice Cullen, 'Moret, Winter' c. 1895 in Public Domain. 




No comments:

Post a Comment

And then...

  Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign,  at first...