Hobson’s choice
the walls turn blue because something has to
I walk slowly along the very edge of the stage
see myself reflected in the unlikeliest water
in the shop I bought a small notebook
when I opened it the pages were unlined
now all my lines of poetry slide down
drawn to the lower right corner of the page
like moths to a flame (which isn’t true, moths
aren’t attracted to candles – they’re confused by them)
funny how bold and daring you can seem
when the lights that normally guide you disappear
and you’re left with just one candle in the dark
16 July 2012
Brooklyn, NY
Comments