Invisible Earth – A Poem

Invisible Earth

I can’t see the Earth
but I feel it move
without me
as I fall
through
a rip in space
a hole in time
down to the center
to watch it
explode.

There is a woman,
Margaret,
beside me
on a train
without tracks
traveling a highway
along brightly lit
electric lights
Egyptian Reds
and Indian Blues
streaming by
outside the window
leading straight
into her beautiful
pagan eyes.

She shows me pictures
and in the faces
of her children
I see how lovely
she once was
before time
and cruelty.

Tea cups have little use
we discovered
when drinking
bourbon
and reflecting on years
when the sun wasn’t
so brash
and the moon
so naïve.

Everything is racing by.
Margaret smiles
and I see the cracks
at the edges of
her mouth.
We play games
and I confide in her
small confessions
that she wraps neatly
and hides
in a whispering voice.

I massage her feet
and am taken back
to dances
twirling in mind
and motion
ecstatically despairing
love as it
stagnates
in tide pools.

My children are no longer
my own
Margaret says
in a tone husky
and lilting
and true
I am not sure
who I am

and I tell her how like
diseased flowers
we are
petals falling to waste
on the tiled
countertops.

My countenance brakes
daily
on my joy
and a weight
rests at my feet
its chain piercing
my chest
and the pressure
bares down and
suffocates me.
Margaret cools my head
with a wet cloth
in pity of my suffering
bringing reassurance
without comfort.

The world rotates
unseen
past the streaking lights
in majestic loneliness
peacefully striving
unaware
as of its own accord
the core smolders
and cools.

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