A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
The tipping point before the fire,
The endless walk along the wire
Where right or left could burst in flame.
The mind builds up its certain frame
While far below, the shouts ring, Higher!
My feet must tread by inner gyre.
The truth of balance guides the liar
Till one stray moment seeks to name
The tipping point—
A place between the spark and pyre
Where life and death would co-conspire,
The point where both sides seems the same—
What we disown and what we claim,
What we detest, what we desire—
And then the fall. Above the spire,
The tipping point.
Siham Karami lives in Northwest Florida where she owns a technology recycling company: nerd by day, bard by night. Her poems have been or will be published in String Poet, Shot Glass Journal, Innisfree Journal, The Lavender Review, and 14 by 14, among other venues