I do not want to talk about the moments in between
that stretch dark velvet
as a breathe held hug
I dress myself in black cotton tee and jeans
pocket my cards and keys
embraced by cloth, the familiar
for the tired lead lined morning.
Sometimes, being is formidable
though tears mend laugh lines,
laughter mends life lines
and so does honest earned sweat.
Salt ether, trickles between breasts
and into the sacrament of backbone
as I carry my bags home
one foot in front of the other
that is all that is required
I fall between the spaces
Quite frequently
as moments flash in
windscreen under streetlamp faces
orbits and angles
and the image of deep sky
split by sharp splintered stars
It all slides by sinuous as a cat
I do not want to talk about the moments in between
No comments:
Post a Comment