nthposition online magazine

Present

by Stephen Emmerson

[ poetry - march 10 ]

It misbehaves
Eternally unspelt
In imaginary rivers
Of grit

Where time ripples an act
Of constancy, you bare teeth
And witness

Record a terrible song
In the grooves
Of a well worn path
That leads you to eyes
Worthy of photography

And blacklisted paintings
Hung from the neck
Of a person you once became

Who's hooks offer nothing
But a solitary nail
through the wrist
That pins you loosely to the brittle
Surface of movement

It is not possible to be trapped in you
Never and always divisible

Lakes form at your feet
They evaporate

Rain down parts of yesterday,
Sections of tomorrow a lightning rod
Burst from a cloud

Though seconds pass
They also distil, and wrap themselves
Into shapes you perceive
As the grey man in your sock drawer

He leaves the room when you sleep
To build hours you'll never remember

Hours you'll never witness
Hours you cant receive
Through the aerials strapped to your head

Yet you know they're out there somewhere
Though you seldom feel them
More likely to
End up with a broken finger because
Of it, or drink yourself to sleep in the back
Of a taxi

For all their fanged apparitions
That transport somehow

The flow of its poisoned blood through
Your veins

To
A blue rose in the mouth that
Fails to open