What if…

What if freedom is a trick of the eye,

a flutter of hands? It absconds

when we breathe, shatters when we stare

too close. Too fixed.

What if chains no longer weigh us down,

when vaults no longer contain our minds,

can we construct our own device?

An ark of fear to impale us:

for which lives better, the feral beast or spoilt pet?

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16 thoughts on “What if…”

    1. Thank you, Polly. I have to catch up with reading poetry (did next to no reading of poetry during the holidays), but did read Maxine Kumin’s ‘Always Beginning’, which are sort of essays about poetry.

    1. You are too complimentary. It’s a bit rusty, as I have been doing next to no writing over the past few weeks. And it really shows, doesn’t it, so quickly? Like exercise, I suppose.

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