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Poets and artists

That Day

That day,
a veil was drawn;
a fine mesh fell
over her;
a net was pulled
about her.
That day,
she tried to shout a warning
to the masses
ghosting past her
but the strings and strands
wove themselves tighter;
her mouth was stopped,
her words caught
between the warp and the weft.
That day,
she dug in her nails;
she clawed at fibres
until,
through the tiniest of gaps,
she squeezed out a sentence;
it was the only sentence she had left.
“Take me home,” she said.
But nobody knew where she lived
and she couldn’t remember
or couldn’t tell them
or couldn’t care less.
That day,
she felt the earth quake
under her feet.
The axis
tipped;
the globe
slipped
out of kilter;
she slid
under the
ground,
under the
weather,
under a
spell.
That day,
when she stopped, the world carried on. Not a single soul noticed she’d
g
o
n
e

Wooden box construction mixed media with glass front, 10 x 10 inches by John Hampton.