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a shaft of dusty light
by Indigo Tempestain my secrets
a sleeping child
rocks a dream.
in a brown room, a red chair,
a grey blanket on white legs
that rock, rock; rock, the paper body,
the untorn pages of profound life
scribbled illegibly, the fading
use-softened spine: tomorrow is no time to seek,
seeking is no more than a wandering restless pupil
failing to alight at all,
a pastel kodachrome mind
vaguely pleased and also graspless
today is a time for eternity encapsulated,
a yellow pill of future in a pale paper cup,
a wisp thought of grandchildren who wont come this summer.
a doll falls to the floor
in sudden tears, of something beyond
my self-child overwhelming,
something not less caring than my own bones. 04/08/2003 Posted on 04/08/2003
Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta
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