New Age

 

Frustration shows like sand-blasted shadows; there’s
smoothness in its devastation – nothing preys more
disconcertingly; where’s the logic in it you ask, am I
passed by circumstances I don’t recognise? To say
it’s deserved surprises more than indifferent turning
& stalking away. Perhaps that explains feelings too
bizarre to wear comfortably, none of them are me
you’ll claim shaking a disintegrating reputation

But you see humour in clinging quirks nested neatly
in corners of crinkled eyes – whatever comes is and
the rest isn’t you surmise wisely; take this medicine,
you can’t deny you knew the signs weren’t sweet –
now play the new-age revelation role and think on
your feet, preferably while moving simultaneously
© 5 September 2013, I. D. Carswell