
Stephanie Smith
Prisms
Every
second is a falling star
burning
a hole in my heart
A
blissful shiver in the shadows of
another
eluded day
Each
moment I cling to fantasy
a
science-fiction tale gone awry
I
ride a spaceship set to auto-destruct
I’m
unable to abort
Just
as my eyes flutter open
the
dream crawls out of rusty tear ducts
and
shatters like glass to the floor
I
see prisms of light in every shard
and
colors so profound
I
count them all to pass the time
I
make use of what I can
before
reality creeps in and must
throw
aside such beauty to the wind
Stephanie Smith is a poet and
writer from Scranton, Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in such publications
as Pif Magazine, Poetry Quarterly,
Foliate Oak, Illumen, and Liquid
Imagination.
Editor’s Notes: In this surreal poem, I tried to capture some of the
sharp-edged tension with a spaceship (toppng) amidst the shards of glass (wallpaperaccess).
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