Read Poetry: Ripples, by Arna Baartz

the disc that spins

inside my chest

methodically collects

sensations

it colours my world magenta and black

if I let it

but

these colours

are yours my love

and I spin them back to you

a gift of freedom….

channelling you

through my sensational machine

makes no ripple in your world of mixed message

but I hear you

you beg for ripples

you scream for change

I can feel it

throwing orange like a manic painter

splattering my floor, making me

slip, slippery

on lust and pain

the moon is high

wash your disc in a clear stream

I will feel it

I will know