Reflection of Power [Creation Myth #17]
Criss-crossed girder power
pylons carrying threads
thin as nylon, towering -
I shrink away, unlinked.
Buzz away insignificant me.
Sat amongst straw-dry grass,
upon hard earth, over ants -
patter under over around -
squishably small. Then there's me
under pylons, scuttle-scuppered.
You are dry, flaking out now -
below, cars scurry,
intercepting one another's paths.
I look to you. You are quiet.
Soaking-up the rough cusp
of earth, power, mechanical man.
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