perimetre

A shock marks a boundary. Carves out the space between what is yours and someone elses.

The sudden disconnection threw me. Backwards. Hurtling away from so many small strings. Revealing the unclouded moment in which I lay. In constant suspension, traversing time, like a small cocoon hoisted above a ravine.

And when my fever rose, I did not feed it. I put my stick away. I watched it dance along that perimetre, lines emerging from the sand.

If I were braver I would be less cryptic.
These wings are still waiting to dry.