Komorebi peeks through the eaves of yesterday’s borrowed ease when the flibbertigibbets flippered in on frisky fins and no one remembered my name from his.
Agate-mouth agape, he chewed and swallowed red seedless grapes.
I am replaced. No way out for existential wildlife on the brink of extinction from distinction.
Trust not in the tentacles that trace teak-tennis-shoe footprints — fabricate your own tracks through tear-stained TV antennas — before the pearled onion weeps for the freedom that ceases peace.
Man-made communion, a green plastic bead, sticks to my trachea (mean). Internal choker — I can’t dislodge it.
Finger the clasp.
© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.
Komorebi according to Collins: “showers of flight – sunlight that filters through trees – filtering between leaves.”
my love has left me gone from me
and I with no keepsake nothing
not a glove handkerchief lock of hair picture
only in memory
– Dudley Randall, “Souvenirs”
I appreciate your keen observation.