Ballroom

I.
now it’s a barn,
a ballroom really
if I close an eye

II.
the posts wait
in shafts of light
swirling with dust

III.
once she pushed me
up against the wall
entirely

IV.
on the phone
our faces hang,
talking mouths open

V.
the shadow of me
pushes hard against my shoes
no matter how fast I walk.

VI.
the night windows
spill yellow light
I step right through

VII.
lines on sidewalks
make deep sense
constantly ready

VIII.
now the bridge,
wider than it seems
when I walk midway

IX.
looks narrow
when seen
from the river

X.
famous last words
yet to be written
remain unsaid

 

In response to The Daily Post:Textures

Don't just stand there.