Snapshot

There’s a cigarette slowly dying in the park.

Spluttering, wounded, its last words are

A silver spiderweb thin tail of smoke,

Consistent, perfectly straight, whispering

“I have something to say! I have-“

Gone.

There is a painting hanging in the sky

(Who stole it and put it there?)

The gallery’s only open for another 10

Minutes. Or so. And she’s like:

“Yep, I’m pretty wondrous, take me in”

Gone.

There’s a fox hanging out in my muggy

Pre-tea (i.e. pre-life) early morning garden.

Gloriously ginger, he bites himself sideways

Weighs up which way to jump, abilities,

Agilities, ambitions. Kettle clicks, he’s

Gone.

But you. You have nothing to prove.

You do not disappear if no one’s

Watching you. You are never alone,

Not while the world has so much

To teach you, show you, breathe.

There is strength in this solitary state.