by Alex Missall
Don’t lose the thread. – The red and white koi,
the white and red koi
float
(as if whiskered, flickered
thoughts
navigating surfaces
of reality)
within the circular pond.
The sun is rising.
You hear a few birds beginning to sing,
and the rocky fall
recirculating
an aimlessness.
Anamnesis:
static that peels
away the moments.
Before daybreak,
I woke with tears running down my face,
made coffee,
then walked out here and listened.
I don’t know . . .
The sun has risen over the trees.
But the stone
and cinderblock tunnels
of the pond
appear reminiscent of labyrinths
from last night’s dream,
where her chimera led my following
into a dark
severed from
Ariadne’s Thread.
Without ambit,
those first freedoms
before graceless jealousy
remain fractured from this strange
omen of infinity catching up with me
now.
About the Author
Alex Missall studied creative writing at the University of Cincinnati. His work has appeared in “Alexandria Quarterly,” “Hole In The Head Review,” and “Superpresent,” as well as other publications. He resides in rural Ohio, where he enjoys the trails with his Husky, Betts.
Nebulous 