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Every Building a Saurian, Stunned

Thanks to Shay for the suggested wordlist prompts (visit her page is here). 



There is no cleaning out.
Weariness in change is the gear
At the factory's heart; it's
oil and dust turned attar of clocks.
The landlord leaves it unlocked
in case of fate needing space
to continue weaving.

-- Chrissa

Comments

  1. FireblossomJanuary 4, 2022 at 7:20 PM

    Very cool, Chrissa. Succinct and satisfying.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Carrie BurttJanuary 5, 2022 at 3:52 AM

    The landlord leaves it unlocked!! I absolutely love this poem Chrissa! Deep and lovely!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. hedgewitchJanuary 5, 2022 at 7:03 AM

    Strong opening, and that second line is just amazing--it brings the reality of coping with change into clean perspective, and gets to the heart of a different kind of work we all must do to survive--yet how tired we get of it, and of that space it continually strives to fill. Or so I read.

    ReplyDelete
  4. jalopy dreamsJanuary 5, 2022 at 11:59 AM

    this poem has a perpetual motion to in... the clock must always turn, i like your image of spider webs reinforces the voice of the poem, your little is perplexing, a mystery, but i like that, adds another element to the poem. enjoyed reading this

    ReplyDelete
  5. Susie ClevengerJanuary 6, 2022 at 3:54 PM

    Sigh, gorgeous writing. You always provide wonderful poetry.

    ReplyDelete
  6. ms_liliJanuary 11, 2022 at 3:34 PM

    The factory exists and the door is unlocked. So much potential in those concepts.

    ReplyDelete

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