chiasmus

“we’re inversions of one another.” | another one of those revisions where

difference is reduced to metaphor

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soundscape, or, the paradox of a ‘sound escape’

i fell to your feet in a clashing avalanche.

my body, a boulder, blasted into shards.

 

the sound of dynamite delighted you.

 

when i crashed into your quarry,

i  made sure my ruins boomed.

“Involuntarily, I glanced seaward – and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away”

 – F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Great Gatsby’

 

Across the digital bay

a beacon, small and green,

flashes, and is gone.

 

The current: silent, static,

but for a spare grey tick –

the crest of curious interest

 

not piqued enough to peak

and break the radio-waves.