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Consciousness ©

Lucia Mussollini
Edinburgh, Scotland

Looking down,
the tears sit elongated in front of my pupils, wobbling
everything is concave
if I move my head from side to side, shaking
I'm denying what is literally
in front of my eyes, but acknowledging it
and if I move my head up and down, as if nodding
I'm accepting but not fully acknowledging

it's difficult to paint a picture

and this concavity will drop into the little pool
that's gathering on the stone
in front of me
in front, below me
reflecting only me?

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