Poem: Corner

All your life, you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye. And when something nudges it into outline, it is like being ambushed by a grotesque.
Tom Stoppard

sharp point
lurking in the darkness
waiting for the bumbling
stumbling night-walkers

turn on the light
and avoid the pain
– but burn the eyes?
And how the eyes burn
when truth is unveiled…

I mean really
what are the odds
I’ll bump it again?

I once again prove
statistics are a comfortable lie
we wield to avoid being sensible.


point made
point taken

and one that soon I will forget
as I limp back to warm dreaming.

1 thought on “Poem: Corner

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