Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Surface Tension, a poem

Surface Tension

With each slow breath I wonder when
this boundary might collapse and I
sink into you, our surface tension
broken. Fixed between the depths

and sky, I spar with my reflection,
certain it grows slower, merges
into liquid, formless, dark
beneath me. Will some breeze-born ripple,

errant breath, disturb our balance,
and I disappear at last?
This shimmering of surfaces,
illusion of solidity,

disintegrates beneath my feet.
Step forward; step and do not sink.

Stephen Brooke ©2019

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