Between

Everything stands out, like a Cézanne fruit.
An orange
with heavy black outline that seems to grow
and deepen
separating it from the human skull.
The empty non-spaces between objects widen
and each object, the orange, the skull,
my hand that can move,
and the guitar,
becomes it's own and different
from every other.
What would any of it be without all of it
surrounding it?
Who would I be without these people around me
defining me against them,
and what would I be without the pink magnolia,
that I emulate,
and what would that sapling be without my eyes?

Alexandra Wild

http://bathroompoet.net