Written using the prompt ‘A Room with a View’
the axe gets a glance
at the onrushing tree & recognises
it too is made of wood
rather, i don’t remember
if i worshiped either of you
only that I could never look
you in the eyes tell me how
we moved through that
living room didn’t our arms spill
as if motors on sinking paddle boats
wasn’t it march most of the time
weren’t we too much
island instead of ocean
to be good dancers
didn’t we dance anyway my feet
sticking slightly to squares
of white linoleum as i jumped
up and up
down and and
down
(Feature image credited to Unsplash)
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