White candle wax drips silently
releasing warmest scents to touch
rounded dabs on top of softest
safest evening
Tragedy.
Sensuous,
Dark writhing lines
of tiny beings rush by towards
clumped unfinished bits of bread
you offer on
your cardboard boxes
Flat
obtrusive
thieves of floor space
Wind asserts supremacy
the ants expand in brilliance
fleeting second,
dark,
All shadows die.
7 comments:
this has a touch of the surreal to it...
I actually see the tragedy... somehow as someone languishing in poverty or apathy. "Crown Jewel," the dripping wax, perhaps?
Yes Surreal....and all too real
Juxtaposition....Beautiful
Linda
There is something hollow and sad in this poem... although, on the surface there is a superficial facade of beauty... I read this and I think of the many 'masks' we wear in life as we get on with everyday reality...
I love her. The surreal, the real combined and she can be read in so many ways.
The second stanza my fav, with the sharpe images conjured in my mind.
It does sound like a homeless guy out sharing bread with the freeloading ants. Is he dead in the end?
Tragic beauty!
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