May 11, 2016 by petrujviljoen
Time-encrusted chain of a non-event
found in newly turned soil in
an epoch of gardening where
there was, recently, none before.
Unbroken, irrevocably locked
but no door. Not anymore.
Nothing. Not a splinter left.
Having a holiday from the self
(gardening is the best diversion)
finding a remnant of someone else’s
past. They did want to visit, but I didn’t
ask their names.
The prose got tweaked and is re-presented at the Dverse Bar where we have a new bar tender called Lillian who suggested a ‘door’ as a topic. The diversity of insights, as usual, astounds. Click the link to read more poetry or get to know this pub a bit better. It takes all sorts, I can tell you.