Whiteout

IMG_1872

Whiteout

Land’s stationary surface
Squeaking like meringue
To grip my marks,
Becomes a sudden sky.

I sense the edge.
I can’t see it,
But my stomach gives
A predictive lurch.

Ahead an uncreased page
Sweeps away, her seamless
Laid quite unperturbed
By marginal horizons.

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About stevedsmart

Steve Smart is an information designer, poet and artist. View all posts by stevedsmart

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