When the heart
with alarm calls to
trees of antiquity
to be near,
this world, the purgatory
of the mouse-click,
stares back
and slams the door.
As words say, or
a wired stray is
the sound in my eyes.
Pacing in place,
hands in pockets,
caught blushing.
Poem: Marie Craven, 15 September 2017 (CC BY-NC 4.0)
An erasure poem, selecting words from writing by Nigel Wells
Photo: Benjamin Balazs, Unsplash
![The sound in my eyes](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4V8PmApibvc/YDDZyG9Y7mI/AAAAAAAAGrw/xaK4eAtTdy8JdQwEm_LIk3ZqJu8jIDlXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/Flickr-LoFidelion-CableMess-CCBY.jpg)