At the edge
staring into the pool
the light dancing on top
take notice:
there’s something shinny on the bottom too
On the bottom
the light is magnified
and the dance is brightened
but the quarter’s within reach
refraction, and backwards refraction
in dreams, I’m reflected in things that are moving quickly but I am still.
My memories are drained played out for me, on their way
slipping down my spine
I’m on a cold coil, I’m set to spring,
I’m at the snack stand barefoot, after a race
grass-stained feet, cattail cut
and I sprint and it all slows down to sleep,
at the top there’s something shinny, each night
I dive down, but stare at the top and the quarter
slips down the drain, on its way out, on it’s last leg, it’s last race run
remember the future in moderation,
the past exits in excess, and plan your days
never with sleep in mind,
so by morning you’ve woken up with something new
to forget.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem