Tomasz Beksinki
Zdzisław Beksiński


I wonder if today will be the day

I fall from your preliminary graces..

The ambulance came, its siren threading

With the motives of my recumbent pulse.

Dying feels nothing like release

When bred of obligation (real or imagined).


Every star ever sewn lays between us

The edges like the tips of safety pins

The sky, a subliminal regalia

For an entity scarcely witnessed

And just as bacteria can not perceive

Its host we are too modest

To reconcile the truth in analogy.


Sometimes all it takes is the light

Sliding uninvited beneath

My depressed lids and sometimes

It takes only one ‘I love you’ spoken

Without pity or ultimatum (real or imagined)

To restore one’s equilibrium.



15 thoughts on “Safety Pin

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