Where There Are Walls

Where there are walls
there were tripwires.
I am watching
you for both our sake.

No harm is ever done
or meant. My dice lie
loaded by their own seed.
Does this make their product
less true? Each face that’s raised
entangles its pair in a burial.

Reflected in a window,
I cannot guarantee
which image’s matter,
which of them anti;
wonder, if reflections
wonder this of me.


  1. Mark,

    This poem is deep and circular. Is it a reflection
    or is it reflection on the soul. Then there is always
    amazon’s new mirror. I read your lines and think
    of Plato’s cave.

    “I cannot guarantee
    which is matter,
    which anti.”

    The human condition, I think.

    Very much enjoyed the poetry and the thoughts.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. The walls and tripwires brought to mind
    emotional barriers.

    The second stanza
    made me think of dice being thrown,

    “Each face raised
    entangles its pair”

    These lines, for me, feel like the speaker
    in the poem might be questioning his own issues from the past:

    “I cannot guarantee
    which is matter,
    which anti.”

    Much enjoyed reading.
    take care,

    Liked by 1 person

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