Soliloquy

[porcelain bones]

Soliloquy

I am   
drawing smart this string slipped
    loop-ways ‘round my index finger
        watching all that    delicious    colour   
                                                              hurry
                                                                          out of it,
                                                                                                                               solipsism.
filling up the    vacancy    with    yum—
 
suddenly
I’ve lost grasp of it and it                     falls
between my hungry fingertips,
falling     with a supple flourish of aerial panache,
it     falls     out of hand and into the hole,    fallen
 
—if only it was so crude as a god
     standing over, rug in hand, smirk slapped
                     sardonically across face—
 
           falling/it’s fallen/to fall/it’s falling/it falls/
                                         when did it                     fall  ?
the string will   
                      fall        
                                 forever,    I think