18

These are times of unmaking
systems fall into disrepair
entropy has her way

birds fall from the skies
buds freeze, curled tight
their potential never sprung

socks and gloves
fall out with their mates
leave without saying goodbye

things fall apart
clocks stop
dishes break

the mirror shows
only empty spaces
and faces without hope

 

These 55 words are for Joy at Verse Escape, where she carries on the grand tradition of the G-man.

7 thoughts on “18

  1. Ah Mary–I feel the emptiness that comes with these lines, the loss, the puzzlement… I think you put your finger on why it is so hard and painful right now for many people to write or create–it’s a time of unmaking, of watching things fall apart, be destroyed, and making seems pointless. The socks and gloves image is particularly poignant. It’s always good to see you at the 55, Mary, and to read you. Thanks for playing.

    Liked by 1 person

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