If I choose to I can view
life through a surreal kaleidoscope:
transforming fractions of humanity
into Picasso’s sacred dream.
Until you and I are no more
than perfectly formed shards of glass
bouncing light upon the retina
of chosen reality.
The dial turns.
You are only a pattern of flesh
sliced with razors into pretty diamond light
echoing in silent waves
an unrestricted multitude of colour.
The dial turns.
And me?
I am only artificial convergence of transitory hue
manipulating pieces of kaleidoscopic light into voyeur’s play
eroding your skin and bones
into an impossible dream-vision.
The dial turns.
You are my beautiful science experiment.
You are my stenciled exquisite.
You are my selective cut-outs of life.
The dial turns.
I am the filter through which your reality flows
I am your flawless, angular vision
I created you.
The dial turns.
I shut my eyes.
The kaleidoscope drops.
It’s reverberating darkness, not diamond light
in unchosen reality.
__________________________________________________________
Heather Corkhill 2000