Something makes me speak to strangers
Strike up chat
Because I imagine a forest blaze behind the match
Because sound doesn’t travel far in my underwater space
Those are complications of the undine’s life
Vacationers routinely drop their phones into my creek
Last year I witnessed drowning of a matchbox
Its twirls and spins before burying into sandy floor
When I speak to strangers my eyes sprout like flower bulbs
From time to time they ask if I found the key
undine-like
© Copyright: Галина Иззьер, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115122708058
Свидетельство о публикации №115122708058
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