Poem: Layers

 

Layers

 

phantasmic.

we can’t see much in mirrors,

or even clouds.

 

so much distress.

it toys with our veneers,

our flesh a mutable ache.

 

too many sub rosas and twists,

let alone those afar.

we’ve lost accommodation.

 

such tyrants in belfries

in a clockwork of cloaks.

these layered tasks.

 

when the tower collapses,

dunes from our hearts

slouch the flimsy rubble.

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1/24   ... "dunes from our hearts"  replaces "the dunes"