Arbitration-





Scissors often draw a diagram
On my cold slender hands,
A light peeks in, as if to tell something new.
A light 
A hope.

A hiccup that stops another hiccup.
This light, a soft tune to my ears.
What do I consider this art of life?
A hummus stain on my sequin dress.
A quiet noise, inside my vase body.

It's interruption.
If a thing dies, let it be.
Let the hand sink.
Let the light go.

Let things go.


Get my book here-
Crimson Skins

13 Comments

  1. Hmm it speaks to me of the hollowness one finds in others’ interface with one’s art, the rarity of genuine understanding in it. But I guess that’s just what I’m taking from scissors and hands.. Anyway, the language and imagery provokes thought. The hummus stain on a sequin dress is a particularly fine juxtaposition. I hate dissecting a poem because it’s either lazy or overdone. But yeah. I guess I’m trying to appreciate it in some way, but it’s probably hollow.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I really appreciate you stopping by my words and digging it at its depth. I wonder hiw accurate you can be as poetry can often require bizzare mindset. I am glad you like what you read here!:)

      Like

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