I was aperture, I was skylight.

I was a new moon blade slicing
through the hidden rooms of night.

I was the gear activated
when coins dropped into
the vending machine,

and the bag that crinkled
downward in its short
doomed flight.

I was the silk of an inverted
pyramid, an ordinary umbrella
made helpless in the wind.

I was the reservoir and the rain
barrel. Of course I looked for you
behind every sliding door.


In response to Via Negativa: Henri Matisse: The Cut-outs at the Tate.

One Reply to “I was aperture, I was skylight.”

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