Ekphrasis
In the shopping centre carpark,
trolleys crash
like
breakers. Echoing
traffic mimics distant surf.
My
smartphone becomes
maritime,
washing up sculpture in
MMS. Curves in weathered
wood
sound like a whaleboat,
drifting;
crazed and craggy,
yet timeworn smooth, the deck invites
touch, while above,
an
aimless harpoon
gun still shines with menace, a resonance
of fear; a sculpted
poem
singing beauty and dissonance.
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