Vicarious

Vicarious



A clear born lake loch ripple-rips
A startling pool
                 of ice cold
                              fears.

His eyes blur like moon-mirror magic, into
zipper wrenched
                splice holes
                     ---shine to reflect.

A vicarious image shudders from black-white
contradictions,
               the pool
                       it shifts to show:

A ghost with flesh taped raggedy on
News-cut fixtures of
                     fixate
                            formed flesh.

Tap dance an image across mind’s quick eye,
of lives not led---
                   an applause
                              to observe.

Spinning top innocence floats easy gone bye,
to see dreams fall,
                   to see dreams fail
                                --to see.

Black lidded soul shutters glisten and gape,
A startling pool
                 of ice cold
                              tears. 

By Iain Sutherland
  (The Ink Jester)
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3 thoughts on “Vicarious

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