Thaumatrope
Two halves of an image are sent twirling
In your fingers,
Twisting in the turns of rotating string—
A quick flicker.
The flipping pictures are animated
And a single vision is created
As they begin
To wind and spin
With motions so conjugated.
Flashing superimpositions move us
Toward wonder.
We're tangled in stroboscopic finesse
And sight's juncture.
Still pirouetting, the sight seems so clear
Although only an illusion appears
With each second
Time has reckoned
For our retinas to cohere.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
