In our home without rooms,
a sun-softened candle’s waxy,
lazy melt
becomes both metaphor and marvel,
blending art with emptiness.
Picasso runs blurry all over the place.
A self-painted prophet’s
pouncing purr
echoes the un-walled everything,
blending absurdity with meaning.
Our window nook is now playing films:
a skyscraper peephole’s blinking
Cyclops eye
casts crooked glances indiscriminate,
blending metropolis with legend.
In our home without rooms,
a night-gentled whisper’s yielding,
tender release
becomes both sentinel and host,
blending welcome with goodbye.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 9:05am on Nov 14, 2024 via server WEBX1.