tuckova

ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things

She thinks about how beautiful it is
in photographs or movies, so still. 
How everything separates for a moment- 
the bullet from the gun,
the wheel from the cog,
the threads untangled,
connections all finally revealed.
If it is a diagram it can be labeled.

Meanwhile in life what is still
even in an instant collapses.
In the absence of tension 
the gravity of things becomes apparent.
The bullet untargeted,
the wheel spun,
the thread recoiled.

She says what did you think would happen
when you started to take it apart?
She says what did you expect
from shattered, disassembled; the broken
exploded view?

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