Saturday, January 29, 2011

Inverted Falling

The vessel clanking on the surface resounds,
amidst the bellowing of steam gaining momentum.
He pours it over the tiny pieces of fortune,
the dried flecks take on a new dimension,
a fat, chunky texture that clogs the morning spirit.
Sipping, distracted by the lack of a cage,
time scratching at all his senses,
evoking the image of a twisted, scragely tree branch falling.
As much gravity as on any other day,
today is the day he succumbs.

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