Tidal Tune

Art by Marie France Oosterhof

I poison my food forgetting to pray

Letting the day

Or night fall into illusory questioning,

Best when the plinko ball leaves the multiple-choice game and

Rests in the grass

Lest the mass inspires me to ask

Is mind, chance, or prayer my saving grace?

Engraving space for fallacies to pour in like a mob chasing after the free

Laughter by we,

Who fall short of worthy praise

In this gymnasticky jazz of dazzle and ribboned loopholes

Dancing camels through needle’s eye

The trombone slides

As if big ideas are toys like books on a shelf, and next line the

Sax, notes stacked in scales, waiting to be rearranged,



One comes along and dips her toes into the moon

Makes a rippling tidal tune…

Felt deeper

I realize people are people and not

Ideas, or even notes or voices

When starved of the choices they invent in whatever jeweled world

Ruled by a licentious lever.

I’m a believer and tonight the only thing I can know—blood to soul—

Both taste sweeter when I talk to God.


©2017, Amaya Engleking


One comment

  1. TheFeatheredSleep · April 24


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