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(sans la mer sémiotique )

Around the space
I inhabit
images collected
hang
spared the faces
the hands
the traces.
In frozen light
reflecting
paper
upon which to write
each day passed
again in sight
of memories sweet
or remembered fright.
Compressed
the index
prolonging life
removed from shadows
with love’s long knife
expectancy
no pregnancy
terrified moments
now history.
Abounds the dust
upon microwaves
lingering
in every strand
circulating
aboard sunbeams
perambulating
then settling
silently
in the deck chairs
of our dreams.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..