Playing Plato

 Sitting on a bench, the sun behind me
I watch my shadow
A block of darker colour,
only vaguely me-shaped
Blurred round the edges, flat and dull
Faceless, weightless
A ghostly me filled with the texture of the ground
Cut round it and you get a piece of surface:
The pebbled path, the edging stones, the grass
It moves just like my mirror image would
Wind gently lifts and drops the strands of hair
Curious semaphore signals
To tiny insects in the lawn
I am the power to eclipse their sun
Sitting like this
I cast a shadow even unto myself
My back is brightly lit, my front in gloom
Somewhere along my body runs a line
Where these two realms are split
I see it on my sleeve, I know it’s on my head
My shadow moves not only on the ground
It is a hollow shape between the earth and me
An unexpected cloud wipes out the image
And leaves me musing how I split the world.

Annette Kupke


If you have any comments on this poem, Annette Kupke would be pleased to hear them.