Doubt

Doubt

Doubt…

If it’s page or a canvas,

Or just a pond;

Peripheral workers moving around the stage,

Beyond some impending hours;

The travail is done.

Waiting now, to enter through the outside

A passing traveller;

In the holding kiss of lovers in the garden,

The fruit is found hanging…

Drapes clear

White clots of nothings, ready to wash,

Or would it be to drain;

Doubt…