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April 15, 2024


By Fabrice Poussin


There is an echo in my head
it sounds like a pebble in a tin can
resonates with the memories
of perhaps another.

Looking around, spinning again
even the clouds are deaf
to my desperate query.

Senses entangled in an odd message
images I once printed
on the walls of that old soul
bicker with the scents of the land.

Taking another aimless step
the ground fails me as always
of course I slip farther down the alley.

What I once tasted as a child
a tart of berries and apples
touches the unknown membranes
in the next world to welcome me.

There is a tingling in my brain
a joyful escapade from this realm
I may be free yet again.

Article © Fabrice Poussin. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-03-11
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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