Interim Eternal
In ramshackle light,
a stellata blossom
makes its last stand;
rallies against the blight
of a humbug season.
People live & die
by their own devices
around here – mingle
with those of another kind;
gather nebulous clues
to another’s Rubik’s cube
from the corner of their eye.
Some flinch at echoes.
They shy away from
a well meaning sun,
or avert blinking eyes
from a sideways glance
before slow turning
into another cadence.
In these ripened days,
words assume the role
of interim – they grate
like a shopping cart digging
its heels into gravel;
a dance macabre out
of tune with itself – out
of step with its own shadow.
©️Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 