Nucleus
pantoum after Brian Woo
We lost our way, and never made it back again.
We shook off the dog days in hope, and
polished our scars to a high shine, a mirror
beneath winter’s veil. We turned in haste to fall.
We shook off the dog days in hope, but
the days grew dark like our desolate faces
beneath winter’s veil. We turned to taste the fall
and dared to call it forward progress.
The days grew dark like our desolate faces.
We marched ever on through the bleak landscape
and dared to call it forward progress.
Walking in time to the beat of a lone drum,
we marched ever onward through the bleak landscape;
we clung to old highs, suffered new lows. We
walked in time to the beat of a lone drum,
to the hollowness growing within our shallow hearts.
We clung to old highs, suffered new lows. We
polished our scars to a high shine, a mirror
to the hollowness growing within our shallow hearts.
We lost our way, and never made it back again.
This poem is part of the Passing Pantoums project on Chalkboard. I borrowed a pair of lines from this pantoum:
