Long dark mane dances into knots,
the window down, sun sparkling bliss
yet Underneath her crown all reason quavers.
The static loop that used to play
when cable clicked over to VCR
her Contemplations, always anesthetized.
She aches to fight unvarying, shake dolor,
to no avail, piles dirt over guilt
for loving some too much and some too little.
Her Cadence ruptures casually
reveling in chaos, changes the channel
and the show on which she settles, Nothing.
Nothing considerable as matter of usual practice,
wonders, “what is Truth?” and how
one can be certain truth can be trusted.
And Underneath long dark shadows
dance into Nots and she slips backward
focus into cable swapped for VCR.
But Someone forgot to be kind, Rewind,
Outside a young boy's voice exclaims,
"I'm going where the wind takes me, mom!"
Then nothing is the same.
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