in a marble

A short piece.

by Marcus Jonathan Chapman

That I could
when I am small
squeeze
into the storms eye
of a marble

roll and be rolled
guided
by Newton’s discoveries
guided
by that hand
which bends trees with invisible speed

To look through
swirling globes of color
showing true
the things
all your things
skewed
to the shapes of sense
where
my brain’s waves crash

all your things
blurred into satisfaction
taming your impositions
that I could exist
in a marble

© 2020 writesmarcus.com All Rights Reserved

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