Thursday, June 4, 2015

POEM: "Light"


It ought to behave itself.
But the light skids off track
while it bends an unfamiliar way,
rising at 5am and fidgets till 7pm,
all day figures to put the shadow
somewhere it's never been before.
Take the photos. Keep the records.
The results will leave us breathless
running this way and that, nearly
catching how we look to ourselves.
Dark, a dog, a thing astounds our back.
The night draws it away like the tide,
and there is no more light, we sleep and
see how shadows see themselves in mirrors.

© 2015 Rob Schackne

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