Videodrome

death, & other things.

It’s the cutout holes of

her Venziana mask, its an 

endless tumble. 

It's the dark, sprawled out like a

tired man. It lives underneath

my kitchen. 

It picks at scraps, it crosses 

continents in a single second. 

It’s the tinniest thing.

Its the pocket lint that walks down into

a lit spiral. Its her, and its

her sons. 

And In the end its gravity’s sick day.

The last word said at supper.

The lines of dusk over Toronto.

Author's Note

i'm kinda back.

Reviews

[Edmund S. Obumba]

I like the way you put my mind to work:-)

[SHEEMA HUQ]

I enjoyed the read, although I kind of felt that the way it defied logic was actually, mind boggling, nice effort I felt

[Dayran]

A stretch is something that a person does when you need to assert yourself a little to cover a shortfall. This is not a stretch of the imagination nor an attempt to link your kitchen to the dusk over Toronto. But you are trying. A great attempt.

[Mockingbird]

for me, it conveys the insidiousness of darkness and the inevitability of its presence. great job.

[eglantine]

Haunting and beautiful. I'd cut "its" from the 2nd line of the first stanza. Second stanza suggestion: "Dark, sprawling out like a / tired man, lives underneath / my kitchen. " I love the image of Dark picking at scraps--keep going with that in the third stanza. Fourth stanza is almost there, not quite yet. Lovely last stanza. Thanks for sharing.

[Balkaran Sidhu]

what a lovely poem.....

[外人 (Gaiji..]

Nice poem :)
Great to have you back !

[Junert]

Welcome.

[Androglossia]

Hey Cole, it's been a while and I could sense malady in your poem. Welcome back!