Metal Synchronicity

Words have mapped tomorrow.

If they were things

they’d be stainless steel clothespins

anchoring soaring laundry

to a washing line

holding pining linen sheets

in predetermined formation:

metal synchronicity

The word has dripped into a glass of water

and billowed to the bottom

slowly diffusing new colour

a dreamlike path

Today a machete man has been sent ahead

to hack out a path for you

fuelled by yesterday’s words

you whispered into earth

Thursday you forgot this power

so on Friday you were hemmed in

not remembering that tomorrow will unravel

according to what you spoke

and that the sword

lies buried in the softness

of your mouth.

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