Sail
One day maybe
I will drift
A wooden plank, out to sea.
Curved, contrived, countering,
Encompassed violet
(a place beyond you).
Seeking truth
Atop a mast
Staring into a haze
Of gray, uncharted matter.
Stop me if I’m wrong
But do you ever wonder
If the sky was born clear?
(transparent).
Walking, swimming, dancing,
Gliding among
Squared and jagged coordinates
Whispering steadily in the east.
Yet, unearthed
the sky is falling
Down.
Down.
Down.
If you reside within the storm
Is there any way to look up?
Sun-Dial
I’m standing here at the end of the line
A child’s game
of angles and numbers.
Counting down until it’s time
Four, five, six.
Three, nine, ten.
Again, again, again.
Pebbles roll across the yellow
A gradient of time
painted in degrees.
Asphalt fades into morning
Quarter to seven.
Fifteen o’clock.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
Recounting scenes in denim pockets
Circles of laughter
fragment a welcome (home).
Skipped beats per minute
Two ten o’clock.
Half past eight.
Too late, too late, too late.
I’m standing here at the start of the line
A child’s game
of hearts and numbers.
Counting curves until it’s time
Seven, five, eight.
Two, three, four.
Over, over, over.
Again. And again. And again.
Carly Popenko is an emerging writer whose work has been featured in the Hamilton Fringe Festival (Best of Venue award), the HamilTEN Theatre Festival, and an anthology series with Running Wild Press. Thank you for taking the time to read her work!
