You’re near, precipice falls
it just occurred to me to write
while I dream of you
soft white tattoo
elongated in defence of suns
you’re my more than this
seeping about m, in
every step of out-sole
worn like skates to hard
for parquetry floors and
double-dance doors.
A man, tall black
the mountain stumbled
struck from dark stars
in iron nights
I heard him talk once
enough for seas to moan
and you to slip away
I hear him outside now,
his hand poised at the
door
A knack – deep and ringed
old like firs buried in
ruined cities
An unfinished play on
one hand – dead white
tune the other. Count
me out of goblet crusts
and sandstone fires.
mine is nothing anymore
mine is nothing before
love’s bright bursting
No comments:
Post a Comment