Before I found the matchbox
filled with exes and ohs
which fluttered to the floor
like blown love when open
to be caught one by one
or picked from the fluff deliberate
as your intent and accurate
as your aim, I was kept awake by palpitations
the expectant glow of porch light
tricky as the squeak
of a wind-pushed gate.
I like the way this moves around that one comma. Great little poem.
The language is as delicately hinged together as the subject matter — lovely!
Oh, I like this very much, from the title to the very end. And yes, I thought the same thing, the way this swings on that comma: very clever indeed. I do so love well placed commas.
This is a delicately crafted poem Saradha. I love the way it all spills out from the matchbox into the last three lines.