Between Mirror and Dream

the sky is rife
with rumour,
with the brazen revelation of dusk,
with the pale orange of disbelief;

the marabou storks
fastened to tree tops,
carrion still on their putrid breath,
are whispering wildly;

fickle cirrus
snakes around a half bitten moon,
stars tumble down the placid hills,
skimming over yellow grass,
vaulting into purple spotted dreams;

the gaze of the gazelle,
the leer of the leopard,
it is truth, it is mirage,
a moment, an eternity,
a macabre hall of mirrors,
where all that reflects
is your own imagination,
your own reality,
stretched and shrunk,
drenched and wrung;

this was the beginning,
this was the end,
everything alive only in my eye,
afraid to close,
afraid to look
into the hollow yawn
of the still born night;

the Mara folds into
a single bird,
the broken moon bit for its eye,
an elephant’s trunk
bending into
a sombre question mark;

somewhere in the emptiness,
between perception and vein striped skin,
between star and sky,
between mirror and dream,
between cause and consequence,
is the silhouette of the flightless wing
that blinds the vanishing sun.

the sky is rife
with rumour.




12 thoughts on “Between Mirror and Dream

  1. Love how you weave images of the moon, stars — animals, colors — your poem is both of sky & earth, ethereal yet with a definite realism. We exist somewhere in between — like the rumours filling the sky in your poem’s end. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

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