Womb Would’ve Known

A door opens inward.

Womb Would’ve Known

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Shot from cannon with a cry, hands of anticipation

cradle and rejoice another plummet. Form of impressions 

soft to the touch, a bundle of things to come. 

Portrait of the whole falls to pieces, boundaries undefined. 

Steps taken, shape sought in hammer and chisel world.

Lucky enough to fall into place, still an emptiness fills a space. 

Mid puzzle crisis, what is a piece to do? 

With the rug gone, clouds appear full of answers. 

Wet from the rain one happens a pond, 

met with a reflection, mirror of crystal sky. 

Peace for piece with a look in the eye,

a portrait framed inside the whole.

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Dressed For Holiday

There comes a time, even then we can’t say for certain.

Dressed for Holiday

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

Jettison my darling, find this common wake,

throwback pairs of defining lights, smirking

sky bounds unrequited, dressed for holiday. 

Chariots of exacting grace fiddle across our

pendulum planet. Veiled modalities pierced by 

opposing ends, cogent leaps of boomeranged 

expressions surface over pent up millenia. 

Sojourned doubt dances over the void, the 

grand swath of limerick contusions, embodied

with gallant strides through our one true vein.