Runnels

The book you can’t put down

didn’t seduce the reader

The pen may stop

but not the mind belied

by those imagined eyes

that read the script

Scrivel is scribed

on any dirty wall

On every tree trunk

all wide open skies

and the face of each potato

scrubbed clean

and readied for the oven

the message

the nutrient uttered

before it dies

The water drops and dries

and washes colours as it describes

in runnels

the way the reader felt

Grant Duncan 7.7.12