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| Topic: Reminders | |
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Some seconds ripple
the quiet surface of an hour. Power sags and language leaves. A shirt snags on a nail, the shock and flail at the sudden pull, caught, incomprehensible at first. The pit is blended with the grass in the path across the yard, A step, kneel quick and clutch an aching ankle. One hand holds the lemon, the other the sharpest knife slicing easy suns. A slip and red reaches fingertip before the brain describes the blood. Lips anticipate the tumbler, the throat waits. But on the way the glass becomes unreachable. For two seconds fingers hold a ghost moving toward the mouth, even as sharp splinters scatter over tile. A basket full of clothes is carried down the stairs. The foot miscounts and fumbles for the missing bottom step. The brain wrecks, muscles clench, waiting for the fall that doesn’t come. As hours peak and break we’re tossed by tiny catastrophes. The nerve burns, the psyche rattles faster than the eye sees. What are these but small reminders? Holes in the day’s relenting story? |
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"What are these but small reminders?"
Einstein (i think) -- for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.. Fishbone diagram -- cause and effect relationship. Me -- action..anticipation of reaction..reaction..and sometimes no reaction... Roco p.s. -- beatifully written...i was just trying to figure out the embedded pattern... |
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sounds like a bad day to me. Nice write
myanimalcracker
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Some seconds ripple the quiet surface of an hour. Power sags and language leaves. A shirt snags on a nail, the shock and flail at the sudden pull, caught, incomprehensible at first. The pit is blended with the grass in the path across the yard, A step, kneel quick and clutch an aching ankle. One hand holds the lemon, the other the sharpest knife slicing easy suns. A slip and red reaches fingertip before the brain describes the blood. Lips anticipate the tumbler, the throat waits. But on the way the glass becomes unreachable. For two seconds fingers hold a ghost moving toward the mouth, even as sharp splinters scatter over tile. A basket full of clothes is carried down the stairs. The foot miscounts and fumbles for the missing bottom step. The brain wrecks, muscles clench, waiting for the fall that doesn’t come. As hours peak and break we’re tossed by tiny catastrophes. The nerve burns, the psyche rattles faster than the eye sees. What are these but small reminders? Holes in the day’s relenting story? inspired "dark black eyes" 
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Thank you
Iam
Roco (it's nice to see someone's thought process)
Bill
Harold
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