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It Moves When You Move by Alex Smith

 
 
Raise your arm and wonder
as it follows suit, transmutes you
into two dimensions; well trained,
these umbral puppets
we string to ourselves with light.
 
Catch the shadow by the tips
of your fingers – grip it tight
and stitch something out of it.
It'll do anything you ask,
never waits or hesitates, except:
 
watch for that fraction
of a second, that slight delay
as it lags behind reality, snags
on the corner of the wall
you cast it on.
 
That moment will stay with you,
later, and you'll find yourself awake
with your bedside lamp bright
waiting for your silhouette
to detach from the carpet
 
and stretch its arms
into the night.