the chair sits aside
but this box is not a room
when the striped river streams down
its green and pine warp in waterfalls
the vertical rush, piped in dreams
wanting for a stone to create circles
begging for a break of the hypnotic weight
begging for weft
in my sleep I saw looming in
from outside’s horizon four saviour points
without a knock they entered
pushing aside the seams to fashion
a door to leave
two switches for light
and a charcoal sketch of a winter tree
for hope – framed
together there is now room
Saffron – 4th April 2021
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Napowrimo Prompt Day 4:
In honor of the always-becoming nature of poetry, I challenge you today to select a photograph from the perpetually disconcerting https://twitter.com/SpaceLiminalBot, and write a poem inspired by one of these odd, in-transition spaces. No matter what neglected or eerie space you choose, I hope its oddness tugs at the place in your mind and heart where poems are made.