Lighter
A single dropp of water about to fall,
it must be in a studio, blue upon
blue reflection - the last cushioned indent
swells out and around that photographed image
clasped around by hand with the grate of thumb-flint
and lifts a little fuel to spark on top.
Everything is found in situ as it was,
picked up, with mats, nick-naks, old typed recipes,
a whole house ploughed through, remembering something
lodged in my head, of a tiny bird in the
Atacama dawn - rarefied air held it's
fine feathers and dry frost, so dry it's small eye
was a brimful of deep brimming sky, and how
it seemed to sweat moisture I thought from it's
very self, just being alive.
poem by Lelio S Shirra
Added by Poetry Lover
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