The Isthmus of Trust

Somewhere between fact and truth
it started to rain,  There are no words
for such grief.

Chewed up and mulled over
some dreams become nightmares,
some nightmares become dreams.

Again and again in the blink of an eye
words blur beyond recognition.
We speak without sound

in sentences laden with structure.
Thank God for conjunctions.

5 thoughts on “The Isthmus of Trust

  1. BoardFlak

    I like the mood in this poem; it sets one up nicely for the twist at the end.

    For some reason the old Saturday morning cartoon commercial “Conjunction Junction” started playing in my head.

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