THE BLESSINGS OF DISCONNECT
If I had a wish, I would ask to be unmoored.
Drifting lazily with the current, one oar in the water,
making beautiful circles without end,
a galaxy spiraling enveloping arms.
I would watch the horizon, as my view
traded places with some one else's view,
the universe slipping away untethered
by demands upon my time.
You might perhaps want to signal me
using nebula, the only language I would understand -
jagged spiked ones for warnings
smooth creamy ones for poems about the warnings.
And for those few moments,
when all I ask is to be forsaken,
use dark matter to speak with me,
so that not even concepts could escape its pull.
©2011 Christopher Reilley
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