Octopus

 

Prodding, poking, hoping, searching for

some reaction from the object

of a hell bent path.

Twisting ropes of meaning from innocent tongues,

entangling prey

in worn out netting.

Contorted images come alive to unwary passers by,

as crippled fingers point at

distorted reflections.

 

Like octopi blinded by blackened waters,

carrying inky currents, born

of outgrown defences. 

 

Grasping for light, as darting fish flash - flying free,

silver hearts ever gliding, laughing, riding
 the currents beyond it's reach.