We stretched our fingers
tip to tip
over a decade pulled thin,
like a twisted rubber band rolling every colour.
Unwinding it spins us to the centre,
the iris of a magnificent twister.
Flesh laps over and under another
as illuminated veins of fluttering wings, vague and ethereal
meet in the middle;
souls in a rainbow kiss
dip and slide through
an eternal wading pool
making no ripples.
Silent serenity
drifts down like a glass box over everything,
a crystal garden fragile and forever.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
