stark, full and delicate
the feast sits in the middle.
Layers fold into one another,
a tight, perfunctory embrace
devoid of intent,
steadied with resolve.
Glowing, it glares, dares you to find
the spark stuck underneath metal hoods.
Tips pointed, painful pricks greet the touch
hands grope in the dark
searching for flesh treasures in twilight rooms
that move with a heated turbulence
rocking adult cradles, shaking lost figures
reciting old spelling bees and Hamlet's first sonnet.
how it all fades and shivers,
objects closer than they may appear.
People rummage through heaps of dirty laundry
striped boxers, white tube socks and navy v-neck shirts
climb into the air
frozen like Bird's eye green peas
caught in movement, hovering above
while the search for the center
continues below.
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