 |
| Image courtesy of Pixabay.com |
At night,
I dive into whirlpools,
slip-sliding and twizzling
round and down, round and down,
on pillow-seat into
the depths and
the coils
of my
mattress springs.
At night,
I spring into life,
into my real existence,
into my mortal world.
If my mother were to meet me
here,
would she know me?
At night, my toes grow deep
into myself, into
my roots.
By day,
I am nothing.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, November 2018
Inspired by ‘Self-Portrait as Semiramis’, by Mary Kim Arnold.
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 