Mind Field
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Windows Media (720k)How delicately we dance the line,
balancing upon our plates,
the hourglass with the wine.
How thinly wrought the wire is
that holds the marionette.
When the puppet’s hand
slips off the wheel
to steep itself in clay:
how brief the breath,
as a drop of blood
that shocks our present mirror.
So we lock each door behind us
to push back the smells
but our garden has been seeded
with memories like mines.
The seconds are as sudden
as a summer’s hailstorm
and the maps we’ve drawn
can’t show us
where the rivulets run down.
So when we turn the corner
we can’t tell what we’ll find:
the innocence of flightless birds
or a ghost barrelling down the path
like a terrorist from underground.