• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 02

Rubik’s Cube 🧩

You’re plastic pieces in my hand,
rotating to form handsome faces;
eyelashes sweep as ballgowns
where eyeshadow, satin-soft,
dapples your chiselled cheek
from near kisses that excite your mind:
you’re transfixed and under my spell…

I’m your Sugar Plum Fairy.

I turn your sliding sides
aiming for precision
seeing you in each triangular wall;
smoothing edges like sandpaper,
tapering off spiky sinews;
erasing imperfections:
striving to form perfect portraits
(you always had too many faces).

Yet, my efforts fail.

After tunnels of time,
your surfaces are planed clean,
ubiquitously characterless:
formatted like streamlined autobahns
of monotonous, predictable grey;
dissolving are your colours
as paint globules in water-pots,
crumbling to sticky residue
wallowing soundlessly
upon the glass jar bottom.


Rubik’s Cube 🧩

You’re an unseen, but once beautiful palette
adorned with numerous tonal shades:
each mountain peak of paint
is a former vivacious planet –
spinning, rotating in an artist’s mind’s eye;
eager to dispel creative potential –
forming works of grandeur:
wall-proud pieces,
invaluably worthy.


You’re a forgotten sea urchin,
buried under layers of mundanity;
a gloom of grungy green blankets you,
disguising prior plastic-fantastic faces
(always duplicitous).

Blackening with antiquity
where seaweed bedecks your skin
reminding you of salient touch.

You cower further,
forgetting your soul:
his needed nourishment.

Instead, you shutter your eyes,
forging a self-induced prison
so I can forget you.