★
I soar through bends in time
my gold knuckles are
Etruscan vintage
I kill a fragment
when you leave the room
you muscle across water
I move over in bed
am locked inside my body
some bold whispering
silences me
✪
this is an imitation of
imitation of
this is me now
pressing your thumb
against the window
it’s a glass door in
her poem but I shunned
that aspect and kicked the pony
and brought in a team of crows
this now has a cross drooped
in half like a Dali painting
in yours you walked through
the painting
embodied it
a cave hunter
with practical means
the tools for survival
in retrospect I should have saw
this coming
Paige Taggart is the author of three chapbooks: DIGITAL MACRAMÉ (Poor Claudia), Polaroid Parade (Greying Ghost Press), and The Ice Poems (DoubleCross Press). Additional publications and her jewelry can be found here: mactaggartjewelry.com; ad hoc she curates Bling That Sings, a site that promotes beauty and poetry.