I Don't Want to Be An Echo

Reflections tickle a memory

not unlike a manuscript

written over an earlier work

or soft repetition of whispers

that once yielded more,

not just an insubstantiality

 

 

a blithe nonchalance

smooth as spiders silk

fashioning verse upon verse

trifling away all meaning

within a language known

only to the speaker

 

again and again, not once

or twice but thrice

increasing the degree

to which only an intervention

will stop the rotating sequence

halting the cycle.

Reviews

[Nancy Lee Shrader]

Well done!