By: ailsaandlisa

Apr 12 2012

Category: free verse, poem


You turn the flimsy switch
and wait quite still.

The room darkens, the machine
whispers into action.

The contraption has,
on occasion, produced
a torch
a spade
a scalpel
a microscope
a bowl of chicken soup.

Once, a white-gloved hand stretched
out and cooled your sore head.

Once, a fine-bored jet shot lemon juice
onto your cut lip.

Today, a trapdoor may open to reveal
a pair of rose-tinted spectacles
in just your size;

or a brass trellis may expand,
unfurling an old battered map
to a place you’d forgotten to love.

Or perhaps you will be presented with
a black box
covered in stars.

If you climb inside (the rhythm
of the cogs chiming like midday,
or midnight),
the mechanism may saw you in half
then magick you whole again
so almost the same as before

that only you
will see the scar.


4 comments on “Invention”

  1. Juxtaposition
    triggers thoughts and wonderings
    just a joy

    I mean you two – keep giving

  2. Amazing poem. This blog would make a fantastic collection.

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