Bubble Burster

I am a bubble burster,
my finger pointed into you.
Quiet talk of you and others,
pushes you from who to whom.
I grasp your tail with white fists
and snap it out into a thread
grown fainter, longer. Weak.

You, a dry and whetted wick,
fuel evaporated in radiant smiles,
rest, cupped by my soft hand.
Held upright with a kind word
I restore your normal body
with the magic of faint praise.
I am bigger, deeper. Strong.

Yet, stood; alone, tuneless
fluorescent lights cast me down.
I shrink into a hollow star,
my five shadows crouching,
each devouring its share.
Their backs turned to me
grown fainter, longer. Weak.

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Front Window

lawn littered
by fat leg’ed witless oaf –
depression lingers

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Foolish Fish

Here is a small (and on the surface anyway) humorous piece, written from a different perspective. I’ve deliberately constrained the length and the language here as it gives both a clearer direction and, strangely also more choice in overall meaning.

I’m not a
foolish fish.
I see your
hook
with its fat
deadly temping
morsel.

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