• Endria Richardson

Moratorium

Last night I dreamed a bowl of water

held my face. It was straight as an omen,

as unflinching.

It slid with the water and shone bleakly

that giveth life

like a dulled orb, cold

as a penny at the stone bottom of a well.

I looked to catch the picture right,

and catching it, saw nothing.

At that nothing

I recoiled heedlessly back

and dropped the bowl.

And if what was in it shattered,

I was not smaller

no less terrible.

#bowl #dream #poem #water

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