trust
Trust is like the
blue of skies
it’s present for now
but suddenly
gone
like a pretty day in may
and a woman
denuded in the wake
of play.
Filling in forms with a black
Pilot pen Hi-Techpoint
V7 fine repetitive
regurgitated data data
he chews it like grass
pity the bard cannot
smoke any longer.
The sun still rises above
the long dust- green hill
but opposite a white façade
a blinding mirror
light in leaps of bouncy play
burns words on pages
of another inquisition
he has to trust.
It taunts his mind
a shell for survival
like a raft without rudder.
Zoltan Zelan
, trust by ZG-Art
