Poem: Ripples

 

Ripples

 

escherian skeletons

rib a lake into canters.

so many creases  

to complicate the liquid face.

 

the ribs 

crosshatch into tigers,

trellis through curves on striped stilts,

which somehow manage to 

clash and yield yet glide.

 

curvy green-gold-blues

strum my eyes, songful of sway.

they graze my spine,

my chest, such 

legerdemain from a protean harp,

liquid of voice it teases the senses:

you, too, it sings, a vivid skeleton.

you, too, spreading your footsteps about,

each of them a scion of impulse and deed,

ripples on a stage.

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8/4/25 mods... i honestly feel like i could die at any time, and that these edits could be my last.  the world has changed so much, in only months, since the usa went fascist.

8/27/24 ... 

The sort of thing we ought to think on when we hear "liquidity."