Broken Periscope

Spinning around my head
Tires in a figure eight
Through the hourglass crack in the wall
I see your big lips like a Wales mouth

Once we were
Two peas in a pod
Now I’m a pea on a spoon
Prepared to be devoured
By your tooth ache on big jaws

Puzzle pieces not cut to fit
Two straws with blocked ends
A keyhole with no key
An anchor with no ship to restrain

Closed eyelids I experience the sun passing by a window
Shadows with the glimmer of illumination
Wearing broken sunglasses
Dark tunnel entrance, into the forest
Intersection
Roads meeting
Falling pine tree blocks the way

Your shoes, Your dog, Your owl eyes
Your finger holding a fish hook
The way your face contorts
When making that look

Lightning hit me
I’m jumping in a hole
Hungry baby bird
With no where to go
The world’s best periscope
Given to the blindest man

-Sommer 9/25/05