All sore from the self-inflicted bruises
of painful events, a product
of entangled imagination.
…’suppose to’, never have happened…
I sat and laughed when you said
I was the last drop to overflow the cup.
And I thought that I was a Golden Fish,
I thought I could grant a wish, if caught.
I swam carefully around all baits,
behind the glass of a cup,
famished, fearful of being trapped.
… where I was just a spark of light,
broken over the glass,
distorted by the prism of water,
trapped in a drop…
But, at last, I caused a flood.
© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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