The inability to move,
paralysis of will.
Trapped between moments in a busy world
that has no time to stop and notice one
silent, immobile drone.
As if in living eulogy,
to testify.
“Yes!
– I was once alive!”
So statuesque,
so perfect.
Like an unuttered threat,
or a scream of orgasm
caught in the throat.
Is it indecision,
or inability
that holds this frozen form?
Or is he just
trapped between moments?
A creature of the past
that cannot exist
in a present
that looks only forward.
A fish out of water,
in a time of amoebas.
HG – 1995-2000
