A Poem a Day (700): Jagged

 
Jagged
 
The sky is a jagged blue sometimes.
Red letters etch from A to Z,
stop midway. We curse the light,
prefer the night, the edgeway,
a belief we can still be something.
 
Echoes imprint within our souls,
linked til we share this open blue.
We eat alone in restaurants,
listening to the rain wipe music.
 
Too much of this time relies on instinct,
a guess skimmed across a silent lake.
 
We pour what we are out of our being
in a bid to connect & we are generous
with our selves, nothing to hide.
 
Laid bare, we spin records of old bands,
play back the way we were before.
There are echoes, so we draw a curtain.
There are even times we echo too.
 
The magician walks a tightrope to the sky,
pulls a white rabbit from a stiff hat.
 
A girl watches it scamp, twitch its nose,
recalls her six-year-old self on a tiny farm,
holding this life in her bare arms,
grins at her mother loitering in the dark.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, January 15, 2025