The Descent
A poem on mindless connection
Like the pursuant line of dominoes
trooped in single file, steadfast yet
susceptible to the wind,
a child’s vision falls before
its predestined end.
Up again, the colors rise,
a hypnotic game that trains
the mind to persist in its chronic state
of abeyance.
The spaces left untouched…
such a delicate line between standing up right and falling
down — raindrops — slowly sliding
in an orderly descent
turning to ice upon impact
with the next
only momentarily distinct
then pooled
together, as if, in sync.
The voices who dissent
swallowed whole
by the masses, pretend now
all is at rest.
Marching onward when evidence
suggests
no one will wake the wiser.
A sleepy rising
lifts in the fog of morn’
as forms merge in a haze of confusion.
Watch your step!
the conductor warns
for what was once a gap
has become a gorge.
Upon entry the passengers
continue to ignore the looming question
unhinged and
squeaking above the archway door.
What remains untouched?
We may never know
as winter sprints to spring
and we rush on to the next thing.
Yellow, orange, blue dominoes
all in a row, holding steady now,
the space between… Like this
plexiglass separating you
from me.
Breathe & Be Still © 2022
This poem is in part a response to J.D. Harms’ prompt: Left Untouched: Prose Poem. Thanks J.D. for another sticky line.
