Part of my Feb 2024 Dream Poems project.
Scaffolding
It’s the invisible scaffolding on which my day is shaped.
I wake, loose, the latest mournful dormancy
flattening as a thin spill of light or sense seeps,
soaks. The light scatters it all, strand by fraying strand
resolving to opacity, all lost to depth, locked
and shipped to sea, glassy surface smiling.
My day is shaped, a scribbled architecture underlying
what you see. I near the curtained pit stashed
with missing bits, construction’s broken ruin,
feel the slow and steady breath of night’s
inventive lodger wandering the morning rooms,
looking for the closets, steps, nests, any remnant
of our conjured wreck.
© M Wms 2024
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