Singly and together we crowd
into the designated space, careful
to avoid the edges and the inevitable
cuts, but we are so many and the space
so small we soon find ourselves
crowding and elbowing each other,
finding breathing increasingly difficult
as more and more of us push inside,
until some of us are hanging
by the edges, irrespective of the inevitable
blood staining the white, and the words
upon the white, until the space itself
begins to shudder and buckle causing
the wisest among us to leap for safety.
Over at dVerse Poets today, the prompt is idioms, and I can think of no idiom I’m least fond of than this one. To see more poems, please visit dVerse Poets.
Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.