letters (if you can only turn around...)

if you can only turn around…

I am chipped like a note from a violin’s string,

descended into intoxication of  late spring,

dissolved in the shadows

of the cold violet petals.

I am stretched over the bones

of the unfamiliar city,

trapped in a dim shimmer

of the street lights.

I am waiting for the sign…

…if you can only turn around,

I can correct my course,

navigating by the light of your eyes,

through the rifts

in the sea of the False Mirrors.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya