zero space

 

give me a small, flat edge

of hope

one I can balance on

foundations of abstract silence.

 

A point, a segment, a ray

of digital collapse

where these bouncing rapids

of life-sized disappointment

may go for early retirement

 

with the residue of sine, cosine,

and tangent of all my past lovers

still calculable upon my flesh.

 

From clavicle to ankle bones, I’ve carried me,

wandered public courtrooms, bars, hospital halls

without lecture, without solvable equations

to study my reflection in the flecks of

industrial flooring.

 

And learned:

my observable emptiness is a clinical chair

managing expression with no effort.

 

Familiar.

Function.

Forgotten form.

 

give me—

a small, flat edge

of hope.

 

© Grace Black

 

I also dabble with poetry prompts on Instagram. Follow me there, @graceblackink, for more daily poetry and play along. Do you dabble in wordplay as well? Let’s create!

 

Love and Ink,

Grace

cc image from Unsplash

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