Prisms

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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