stump of a silver lining

A diving board, wooden trampoline
And I wake up to skin belting
what goes down must come back up
slithering on streets lined with tar
Tucked into the cubicle, lost and found
Fluid nonideas cooked up
Packed into something of a
stump of a silver lining
Mixed in, mixes me in out side
Reels in another laugh

Headless woman in a paper hat, you make my heart full
Curious what I look like to you,
‘cause you look like you’ve never taken a tumble
without dragging your nails along the wall
Pinpoint pupils and my eyes the color of a free fall

Oh, you’re giving me them chest compressions
that just won’t quit
Playing lighthouse once again with your frantic glint
Someone’s got to wait there, dripping spit

What’s brought me to the middle after a pleasant run
I thought I’d chosen the cycle of falling and flying
to walking this cramped line

I trust you’ll overwrite it all with a bored guitar riff
your white oxfords sign me off
citing something of a
Grass stepping,
Train spotting,
Crash compiling,
Beach combing,
Town trotting,
Do nothing
Who’s done

an interrupted finale, instead
Mercy’s comeback gives it to us with a thump
multiplying with the return of my gut

You know I’d sooner prick a finger on
something of a tripping, kicking,
spinning wheel

Then senselessly take it on the chin
I catch myself in the parallel
and rehearse the same old spell
who else could
break that one in,
give it that lived-in chic.

Call It A Persona Poem (ii)

Artwork by Claudia Rogge "The Red List"