Photograph by

value against ill formation

I’m exploding into a million tiny fractals of light. One has your name on it. One has his name on it. The others have no names. They scatter very quickly, while the named two say quiet. I can hear your particles within your particle. I can imagine the uproar. I can imagine the down play. I can imagine the slow and steady sway of each minimalism.  Bendy theories try to examine what we mean. I bite into the other named particle with what is left of me. Its bubble gummed refrain starts to get the best of me. I can taste the displeasure in my ineptitude swag. I can roll for a minute into barriers. I can hide against its solipsism. Envelope its revolution in body aches, in place cards, in gross smiles, in practiced examples, sheep herded into machinery. Fine-tuned, greased before me, help. Reaching for the other named particle I pull up a hard earned plateau. Tabled on indignation I can imagine your gain. I can imagine your solitude. I can imagine your refrain. Visuals order my memory around when I smell this one’s pain. Violent helpings avoid the millennium like warriors on my rainbowed combustion. Youth them in disorder is what he meant to say when I realized that maybe we stayed just the same. There’d be no want like the one I’ve got. Righteous into my open arms, trust a billion bits of information, swath the bellied laborer as I close my legs. Air out my breakdown, replace the valued reason, Gorilla glue or treason into a reversed you. Now I’m bending tiptoed into your subliminal light.


Amie Norman Walker works and writes poetry and fiction from Michigan. She mothers, contemplates, examines, retreats and repeats. Previous publications can be found in XRAY, Tragickal, Soft Cartel and others. She tweets @crawlintohabits.

Advertisements