Spilt

ideologies spin

under the gaze of a singularity.

thought 

had inherited their destiny, 

to be

wrapped in the muslin shroud

of obscurity.

mummification turns 

the unnecessary to dust,

and the gyroscope 

rotates in place

as i cut my teeth 

on the foggy film of attachment.

with gentle hands, 

i release the persistent narrative

about what life should be mine,

awareness of its passing,

the only mark of time.

.

Β© M.G. Iannucci 2017

Painting by Wolfgang Rose, “Fallobst”

13 thoughts on “Spilt

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