moot point

by April 25, 2018 0 comments

all covered in snow
except the red lines
next to my mouth
nothing can conceal them

my eyes are filled with
the perplexity
and moldavite

I fell to earth
and lost my way
back to the blue
homeland with the stars

a land-dwelling and
an air-grasping habit
to hold on to

the memories
collections of the earthy hues
emotions feelings
and photographs

to hew a passage
through the crowd of
affairs and incidence

to meet you once again
in multitude
knock-knock…who’s there?
no one

a net
a moon
a pearl

an old book filled with
the old calligraphies
I turn its pages

– Inna Dulchevsky

editors note:

Meteoric, momentary; yes, moot… – mh clay

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