Tilted Shadows

Tilted shadows
forever balanced
between two worlds
against turquoise tiles
meeting mahogany panels.

Hijabs lay visually silent
as sideways glances
on the shadow’s screen.
No difference, unless
hair is static.
Erratic styling upon a mind.
Cilantro finds everyone, in this room.
Smells are in a gaseous state.
Maybe Iowa?

Wait, no!
North Dakota is naturally gassy.
Curse your sophomoric sense of humor.
Pass through the gateway of the senseless senses
into a realm
of cascading thoughts
and textures
interwoven together
by Quaker hands.
Like them,
these thoughts too,
like all art movements before,
will fade and die
with me.

Michael Carney