The Vestibule

Come, come hither, towards the left vestibule,

where phosphorus colours the lighted depth of the oceans

I have salted with the bitter sands of the allegorical right.

Come, come, enter the nighted neighborhoods,

the rivered causeways for the chance to see your shadow cross

the left banks of sorrows guilt

Come, come, closer, and see the oxidized coins tossed over the right

shouldered fountain of Lethe’s left ladled reflections

Come, come, do not fear the clockwise flow of memories

reversal of fortune left on the wayside, the slumbering moon,

veils its eyes, allowing you the right of passage

Come but leave your mistakes idling on the muted lips

of discoloured blame, fate lies on the left of antecedent misadventure

Come, enter. Listen to the throw of ventriloquists voice, that knows and

speaks of the empty soul, directing larboard the noise filled traffic of

your righteousness

The left, circles the exit that rights you, serenading your charted course

on the chords of your footsteps with the pitch of an E

Hurried steps enter the vestibule of my mind;

they abruptly halt on the crowded steps that lead to the right

you are disoriented upon entry,

I’m nowhere, neither to your right nor the left

I’m gone, exited through the door, on the left of your right

You did not follow the rules of engagement

Your choice — my premises.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. Oct 2019. All Rights Reserved.