Tripped in and out of my mind

The lights are out --

the trip-switch has tripped

taken out the walls

the furniture and known corners

neatly placed stool and shoe

just where the wide-eyed blindness

prompts foot-fall ;

the candle-lit re-decoration

repaints household

and a strange after-smell

lifts me from floor and stupor,

but Tutu knows --

the square-inches of his kingdom

are not yielded in light or shade

or the pitch-black of human oversight –

and so I scramble through scrambled memory

into moonlight familiarities,

yearn for a family gone a-visiting

scatter thoughts like seed

on garden, leaf and treetop

discharge insecurities into rain-pools

remember a girl and a doll,

a book of verse and a short story

fingertips and the principle of gravity,

pat Tutu on his head

and retire.  

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