Monday, 28 November 2016

A poem by Christopher Iacono

Earth, Waving

Inspired by Bridget Riley's Fall (1963)

A rumble outside the window
trickles into your ears
like shooting drops of rain.
A waving floor shifts your feet,
bends your legs.
Then the first picture frame
slides down the wall,
the second one
collapses on the mantle
before crawling over the edge,
broken glass streaking
into your veins,
cracks growing like ivy
against the wall,
sheet-rock powder
sprinkling on the carpet.
Hundreds of crashes
pummel the wet sand
of your skin, rivers of noise
overflow in your skull, linger
until you yank the door open,
run from the threatened shore.
When the flood recedes,
you gaze into the last shards
of glass intact in the mirror
before the sight of the damage
sends the final tremor.






Christopher Iacono lives with his wife and son in Massachusetts. He has been published in Zetetic: A Record of Unusual Inquiry, Dirty Chai, Pidgeonholes, among others. You can learn more about him at cuckoobirds.org or find him on Twitter (@ciacono1973) or Instagram (@ciacono761).

2 comments:

  1. Great work, Christopher! Really tight, with hard images and movements that suit the theme. Strong title, too.

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  2. A reminiscence of a descent into madness, is my take on this lovely poem, Chris. Gave me goosebumps! Awesome!

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