Distance
Pressured vestibules. Crammed tightly.
Never felt closer, my eyes squint-shut.
Every finger etching new think-flow-fill.
Tapped rhythm, palms cathedral print.
Postulated cat’s cradle, always fiddling.
Constant reassurance in the ethereal it.
You swim in my chest, circular motions.
As a black carp draws rings in a lit pool
Swept in ribbon tail, sparkles pulmonary
5570 miles around a sphere measured
24,901 circumferentially. Quarter caught
Current pass, arcing along our umbilical.
Adventure glitter litters a codependent vision incision. Thumbs blood ran hotter.
Sustenance written language of thought.
Deed. Bonded seconders sacred seeds.
Our congress beckons broader needed
Heaven is tomorrow breeding in freedom
About the Creator
Paul Beckett
I’m a writer, horologist & joy filled fantasist. Reality to me is plastic. I’m fascinated with time, quantum physics, analogue and fashion.
My writings at least 69% autobiographical, often 99%
Fav:Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams- S.Plath
Keep reading
More stories from Paul Beckett and writers in Poets and other communities.
There is a Thin Line Between Tears of Sorrow and Tears of Joy
I remember when my mother passed away. After the tears from the initial shock, our family sat in the living room and shared memories. We talked about her love and compassion toward others, the lessons she taught us about honesty, and how she taught us the importance of respecting ourselves and others. Then we started sharing memories that made us smile and eventually, each of us began to relax and tell stories that made us laugh.
By Brenda Mahler7 days ago in Humor
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.