I splinter through the door, mind shards
still scattered between qwerty, screen and space.
Time hangs suspended in the hourglass
unsure of which direction to flow.
Puddles avoid careless feet, birds pause flight,
stones roll down edges, leaves and flowers retract,
trees suck in waists, river reverses,
all roads hastily straighten curving spines.
Head an unpublished word press, body detached -
there are days the world needs to deflect me.
still scattered between qwerty, screen and space.
Time hangs suspended in the hourglass
unsure of which direction to flow.
Puddles avoid careless feet, birds pause flight,
stones roll down edges, leaves and flowers retract,
trees suck in waists, river reverses,
all roads hastily straighten curving spines.
Head an unpublished word press, body detached -
there are days the world needs to deflect me.
By Jane Olivier
1 comment:
Jane Louise Olivier, born 5 May 1953 in Peterborough, Ontario, raised in South Africa. Travelled extensively throughout Africa on business and as journalist. Built an orphanage in Cambodia caring for orphans and displaced children. Since 2009 been travelling the world and always the words.
Post a Comment