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In several days, over the course of a week
The window’s incision of light raked steady
Across feet, the floor, felled shadows like trees.
The sky through the window
Brought daydream stability to the future and a sick faith
That the same room and company populated
The developments ahead. Meanwhile, all the houses
Are shapes drawn out in trailing smoke,
What’s left when the dye pack ruins the banknotes.
One of the more difficult accents to acquire
Is a proper plinth – something sturdy, marble maybe.
It must impress everyone with a belief in forever.
Look at it and it will tell you how the search was long
And the cost was dear yet fair,
How inside the home it dispels despair.
Alex Bucik
Alex Bucik lives, works, and writes in Toronto. He has been writing poetry and comics since 2015.