It's Still Life

Frustration …

… is a poem that makes no sense.

It’s early morning,
and I’m in the middle of a dark memory,
or it might be a nightmare.

A pull in a direction,
a light’s refraction in a room of clear air
and bright surfaces.

Medical measure.
Walls pink as a mouth, and I hear crunching
leaves. Old parchment.

I am breathing part of the sea, they tell me.
I smell layers of ground in durations of breath.
Hissing.

That high pitch
as if coming from a spectre or speck
of grief left behind,

and then I feel my breath release,
emptied,
and the room is green not pink.

Written for PAD Day 29 (poem-a-day challenge) “Frustration”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.