Shadow Bond Scarlet Martin
58
Since life began the first rhythm of beat in my body, we have been sewn at the peripheral seams. My constant companion, a partner in the ephemeral merengue of life, ours is a sweeping drag of feet across floor, but we are not lovers. We are members of the same chain gang, victims of circumstance, shackled at the ankles, unable to circumvent dancing each other in circles as the sun changes direction, its crests and falls, rolling beneath those white caps in the sky that are fixed with their own dark counterparts. Even they, so far removed from the earth below cannot scrape the dark smudge from their heels, the anti-presence of light – fleeting snapshot of existing.