wickerswork :

poem

Uncovering

I followed the pattern
like the book said, only
it wasn't a book
but something in my head.

I traced an outline
the book told me was real
only, my head wasn't real,
just what was inside it.

So I separated spirit from the flesh
and rose like a book from its cover,
except that it was only words.
The good thing was; it was only words.

As the spirit rose above
so the body stayed below,
counting the hours
in useless harmony of days.

 

© george wicker 2006

First published in Breathe magazine, 2002