Once More Speak

Creeping on the fringes of perception

Lurks a darkness I can’t tell is always there

It’s the crackle in the radio reception

It’s a fracture, in the snowglobe, thin as hair.

When life is flat it’s easy to ignore it

And coast smooth on the mercy of the fates

But those tricksy ladies tempt one to explore it

Knowing, though I do, a black dog waits.

I hold my breath, for if I let it touch me

Its inky gaze infects my mind and heart

The world shifts sidewise as its tendrils clutch me

Yet I give thanks that I can once more speak to art.