Filed under: Poetry
a shift into shadow
to escape the last strands of light
reaching beneath the canopy
I breathe
and listen, as mind-threads,
small cognizant fibers
finger out in search of
images and sound,
snapshots foreign to concrete memory
a face, or moment is there
obscured by the clutter of years
as I mentally thumb through
a streaming catalog of possibility
flashes play against the lids of my closed eyes
in waves intangible to perception
a door opens and closes
bounces, rhythmic against it’s frame
the rays are gone
I am left with traces
peripheral sensations
I feel them on my lips, ears, tongue
burned outlines of something other than
I smooth my skirt, run my hands the length of the fabric
they are there
soft impressions of vague intentions
like fingers over cotton
trying to feel silk
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