Foucault's Pendulum
I lay down got up
sat still watched
the dark, the green-eyed
smoke detector chirp,
morning doves nosedive into clean glass
gleaning with sun,
ceiling fan falls after oscillating
like a Foucault pendulum—
least we’re all still moving
gotta keep moving.
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.