escher poetry — [A] :: 5

what is this bright blue ball thrown at me
as though i were target
you’d think i was here
but i’m nowhere near where it’s thrown
so why is it thrown at me
why am i the target
why is it dead on me
when i’m not here

why am i blue against the flowers
why has the sky gone on holiday
why is this dream so undisciplined
why am i a dream

i am no gladiator
and nor are you
or are you

stop reading my dream
how dare you
have you not the courage
to look away

perhaps i am the gladiator