Pinholes

I am among the miscellaneous items,
none of significance; cast away
forgotten like the carapaces of dead insects
littering the ground beneath marching feet.
Lost within a long beat of silence-
the noiseless hum-like a prolonged seizure,
this, the status epilepticus of my heart-
whose echo hops like a frog among
the false pillars of fairytale hopes and
dreams pushed into nightmares through
the star burned pinholes of a midnight sky.

© 2010 Lyndsey Warren