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Puddles

Nebulae swirls in coffee
Languid dirt under nails
Funny wonders of a mind left
In late life commute

Fishing for stars
Out of gutter puddles
Why the murky venom
When crimson lakes smirk sour?

Out there the baskets swoon
Arms pumped and glitter powers
Through divine sneers
Stupid hallowed barks

There silverfish scramble for coins
Surfaces stir with unshed dew
But the depths only engulf
The reflection of newly-thawed ice

Out there whales weave
Over under the clouds
Their navy backs glisten
With moonlight that hasn't died

Grass ripples mesmerise
Hills and lake undulate under
The north-western wind
But you know the source

It's not in the mountain
No traveller hikes up the same
Stumbling rock and greets
The same sinking panorama

Not then the river
Tricking you into moving
When roots grab ankles
At a loss you start over

If you must breathe
Find a source I mean
Look for the forest
The best fish crawl between the trunks

What must light feel
Travelling a trillion stars
Braving void, to be stuck
Hitting your marching back

When it could have
Landed in the swirling sea
Lost in foamy screens
Rippled into oblivion

Hokusai's cherries actually bump
And rot in late summer rain
Let the after rot
You think, stirring

-©Estelle Wallis, May 2019

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