Horse, Apostrophe
By Joe Dickinson
I like to watch the words –
Bounce, bounce,
Trounce, trounce –
They like to play
On my jungle gym.
Hope is that one tree –
Hovering above
Both you and me,
Leaves like licorice
On an early summer day.
Descend! Descend to me
And I will waste
This clock no more,
I will not shake
The ghostly hand.
What is that light?
My mind is so unfocused –
Shifting, thrifting –
That my inner monologue
Has taken over
The stairs.
Stop talking so loud!
Copyright 2007 Joe Dickinson