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A New Muse

This is what dating an English major does to me, apparently...

Reality tilts.

Water pours from the sky.
It must be jealous of my warmth.
It seems determined to wash it away
As it attempts to convince me
That warmth comes solely from myself
To trap in quilts
In the darkness of a cold, lonely room.
I'm not convinced.

Jeans won't dry.
I sit crooked in my chair
Biding my time.
They will dry with warmth of my own.
But I know better ways
And better warmth.

Tasks abound.
All want attention.
None receive it.
My reality is rotated...
Like a polarized lens
They are blocked out.
I focus without conscious decision
Amid clamor and coolness
On channelling this warmth
As it flows easily through
Tilted like I.

- Tilted

Comments (1)

I know we've already talked about it, but I just wanted you to have a comment to get excited about. :)

I like the poem a lot. Rainy days are often inspiring, no?


This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on October 18, 2004 11:03 AM.

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