I haven’t decided if I’m just continuing the saga, or trying to get the poem that fits the title.

2
Fingerprint dark grey
outlines the figures
staring from inside the frame

They don’t accuse
but they judge

They fear no repercussions
what’s done has been done

Beyond the frame
mirrors reflect ash and red
shifting lines
changing shapes
uncertainty

impenetrable surface
without texture or definition

the dust
of chalk and closure

3
My view is through a dirty window
or a cracked mirror
I don’t know what I’m seeing
until I focus

No cross-hatches
no shading
it can’t be me

My outlines are unpracticed
I prefer scribbles and blurs

If the lens can’t render something soft and fuzzy
I discard it and start over

My titles obscure and confuse
more than they explain

I am without style or grace
this is not a deficit or a complaint
but an understanding

(4 July 2018)