Detachment

A Poem

A bitter crest to the day, wind that pushes you where it wants to go, ceaseless unveiling ridiculing minor attempts to light something to feel the pause where you tried to insert it

But your vision returns unlike the blu-ray or the telephone without buttons just spinning and taking you into the bed you just left

Quotations thicken dialogue then part the pinot noir into shadow versions of another kind of play

So you will not really detach as hard as it is gusting right now feeling feet leaving the ground isn’t all that bad after all

J.D. Harms 2020