Granulated
Sometimes I wonder
if your precision, passion,
sense of knowing,
comes from within.
Or if it matters.
I saw transcendence
through the ferry window,
where the dark and heavy water
slugs in heaves
of fatigued liquid pyramids,
collapsing on themselves
sucking in the distance
between us and the grey line.
A poem returns to me,
on the fissures of formulation,
a bus ride, a moose,
smeared ocean grime
on my reflection, bounced
about by the moment,
occupied by cardboard cups
quietly placed on laminate
surfaces. Caution in chatter.
Creaks of wicker hampers,
stacked with sandwiches
carefully unwrapped from tinfoil
by fingertips unscrewing
thermoses of filtered coffee
or pinched yellow
from shaking sugar
granules in paper sachets.
Some of us see how cheery it is
to sway around smooth surfaces
spritzed with alcohol
on our way to somewhere else
that we hold tepid hope for,
between the acrid concerns
and saccharine surprises.
Naomi has a doctorate in philosophy and founded a publishing company for dyslexic writers. She now combines writing with teaching children with special educational needs. She has just completed her first novella and is currently working on a book about non-linear narratives and a poetry collection which explores signs, happiness and living the good life. A full list of her publications can be found on her website: https://cargocollective.com/naomifolb.