two poems: inside a museum

[kaberett]

is where you belong--
not labelled, between cabinets
of dusty stolen artefacts
but seated in the shrine of the muses--

or, more like, it isn't you
that belongs there at all--
rather the impassive statue
I have made in your image
the surface painstakingly polished smooth
enough that I might use it as a mirror.

I was wrong.
I do not write for you:
merely about, around,
skimming your surface--
pond skater, dragonfly.

I magnify your slightest motion
into worlds.

Comments

[fyreharper]

Misread the last word as 'words' on first pass, and then words turned into worlds... as is a thing that happens :)

[shehasathree]

This is AWESOME.