The space partitioned by electric wires
And anchored to the ground by the poles
Is well and truly caught.
They cut my vision –
Straight lines across unending undulation
Of hills and clouds.
Ugly not because
Of shape, but due to insular connections –
They only touch each other, not the space
They fracture with the guiltless disregard
Of those unaware.
Rest in peace
My endless space
Available in pieces.
Your voice lulls me to sleep.
Your snoring fails to keep me up.
Your moving in bed does not wake me.
But when you get up in the night
your absence screams in my ears,
it prods and pokes at me
and I wake up with a start,
finding a loud, obnoxious empty space
interfering with my sleep.
I don’t lose sleep over you –
I loose sleep over the empty space
where you should be.
Urban spaces –
they do their best to define us
as we do our best to push through the visual noise,
through the cultural pollution of busy streets,
through life thrust at us easily and cheaply –
consumed, discarded, unlived…
As we adapt to our world we also define it,
bending the space around the shell we build.
Spirals are best.
