There Is Such A Thing
       

Juncos
blink in
like electrons,

an illegible
pageant

the mind screens
for the body
to believe.

Ugly honks from swans
above—I'm here I'm here

is all they say, scientists say.
But there is such a thing
as a spell,

a hook
of tones,

opiate,

like a habit
anyone can put on.

A drum is struck,
a chord locks,

I'm here I'm here
is all it says.

And it's helpless,
my body,

which both
is and isn't
me.

A deaf
mule,

a melting
pebble,

irresponsible

for its demands
and its stupidity.

But there is such a thing
as an idea,

and idea two
to hide idea one.

Snow
masks and
unmasks the slope.

The face, least
of all the self,

burdened
with all of it,

all clarity,
recognitions,

blush of inner
unspooling,

blink of love
for another concept

behind a face,
or the face
itself,

that image
in chains.

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Copyright © 2021 Molly Brodak All rights reserved
from The Cipher
Pleiades Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission