- Vol. 08
- Chapter 12
Anamorphosis
Of course, you say, as we stand
at the counter of Bar Obvious
waiting for our coffees day after day
This meeting place is indistinct
as if you could scratch through the sky
to see the blurred edges between teal and ruby
The texture of absence, of air on metal, it's trust
it's like us
to try to trip the cosmic order
to skip away and wake with the key in our hands
to row home across the bay
before the sun rises
And that's what I want to know: how to traverse
the damn line between the visible and invisible
where colours morph: bright yet grey
Although you don't say much when we are here
I only need a word, an image
to bring it all back again
Threaded on a wire
curled around a hand as
a telephone cord
Anamorphosis
I hold the communication
that ancient technology
here just for a spell
a form quiet moment
suspended there, yes there, just over there—