A Poem

Francisco J. Vázquez photo of work by Igor Mitoraj en Coruña II CC BY 2.0


All the little muscles
tighten and twist
to hold me together
a little too tight
as if I might otherwise
break into several
hundred useless fragments.

An erector set facade
unafraid, denying
more than one truth
about myself, life,
the country I live in,
what tomorrow
will bring.

A poem

Paul Klee, Picture Album, Public Domain


Time, the great bringer
of things,
is suspended
on wings gliding
in particular,
cutting through
the bluest
slivers of sky.

Hope is as wayward
as any summer breeze,
it blows wisps
of suspended disbelief
in evil and ignorance,
for a moment
it evaporates.

Dark clouds

Anna Breslin

GenX writer. Old poems at medium.com/annapoetics Infrequently updated website — annabreslin.com Inquiries writeannab at gmail dot com

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