#inktober 16. ANGULAR


Angular appropriately lands at the turning point in my concertina book. InkToberish synchronicity. Half way through the month. Half way through the book. All good. Although the poem might be about freezing in the face of fear, it’s also about the pause you can give yourself in that moment to make choices. So as I step over the page and metaphorically go down the other side of the month / book I am aware that I’m enjoying these inky pauses now, not fighting them anymore.



I notice the angular 

tilt of my whole body 

balanced for the step

it will not take

and my arms are bachelor 

passengers in a temporary

suspension of service.

While I dangle there, atom

dinks atom as usual

like tiny atmospheric chancellors

organising the value of air.

The silence janitor

has turned the dial 

of noise to zero point four.

The wild shouting

that froze me in this granular

fix is angrier but I cannot

pay attention. The atoms

push back the sound

waves in my favour. 



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