Michael Igoe | Signature

It might float in solo modes
quartered in different hotels.
Underneath a sheet of tension,
a glad absence from the street.
The time has long arrived
when you will have to go.
It’s hope for severance,
engineering the escape.
You might try to stage it
like eating penny candy.
Repercussions come from trust
as rebellion in a silent moment.
The game goes much like this:
two barber mirror face to face,
cast in an infinite progression,
the customer head is centered.
I sense my own capacity
for things that are florid.
But I’m the first who leaves,
to lie down in a dense patch,
knee deep in rubbery plants.
Insects of unknown breed
multiply faster and faster.
On the pristine television screen,
they show up as meteor showers.

Michael Igoe, city boy, neurodiverse, Chicago now Boston. Instructor at Boston University’s Center for Psych Rehab. Numerous works appear in journals and anthologies(available at amazon.com, lulu.com, barnesandnoble.com). Tai Chi apprentice. National Library of Poetry Editor’s Choice Award 1997. Best of the Net nomination 2023. Find me on Twitter at MichaelIgoe5. See: poetry-in-motion.org.