Editing poetry: test print

I seem to write a lot about winter. Or perhaps the seasons in between are not extreme enough to capture my attention.

over the winter
a simulacrum of being
to a point
harsh as sunlight
focused through a magnifying glass
blazing circle
leering corpse of the routine and subroutine
the social world boils
in rolling cloud waterdrops
to the frail centre of the echo
nerve endings shallow gasp at
touch withdrawn
the fine legato of movement
heat mistaken for warmth
threads separate and smoulder
silk burns
like cotton
cotton like cellophane
cellophane like unravelling protein
plate glass windows reduce to silicate strands
the sound of a footfall inverted
blurring condensation
triplet words sink and tap on the frozen ground

via Editing poetry: test print.


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