Archives for posts with tag: life poetry

Lily,

who didn’t

feel like she

was that

important.

Lily,

who felt like

she was

always sinking.

Lily,

when his gaze

fell upon

her.

 

Lily.

 

For a few

seconds.

 

Lily.

 

For a few

seconds.

 

Lily,

he gave her

a green and

verdant

view of

this world.

 

Then somehow –

 

Lily.

 

Finally

seeing with

her eyes wide

wide open.

 

Lily,

thinking she

was never

meant to die.

walking home

under

the inexorable

force

of last

night’s

full moon,

i am

thrown

into

your inevitable

path.

my head bent,

my shoulders hunched,

i looked up

and i

stumbled-

hands

and knees

and splayed

and down.

feet

and

plunge

and

trip.

this abyss-

we made it-

too suddenly,

too late,

too visible now.

 

so i

walk

into

this

empty

white

corridor.

It

resounds

with

the emptiness

the squareness

the

multiplication

the

amplification,

the

recurring

emptiness

of

this

world

without

you.

there are

some small

brown winged

moths

in this

collection –

seen in

the right

light –

their

Mottled wings

hold a

certain

Incandescence-

an

internal glow-

heavier

than the

ornate

gilded

frames they

have been

placed

pinned

and

hung in.

 

I wake

at 6 am

eyelids

gut

hands

fluttering.

I remember

Now

that your

voice

sounded

as flat

and

Pinned

as the

gold framed

moths

i once

hung

on our

hallway wall.

You are:

eerie

resounding

sound,

real unreal.

Dusk and

full shadow,

seen unseen.

A suddenly

certain

uncertainty.

The ghost

in

my head.

 

there is some pain in

this missing of you – a strong

ache deep in my bones

The dirty

petticoat

ragged

black edges

of the cloud

should have

told her

something.

And then,

she

should

have paid

attention

to

the

hungry snarl

sharp teeth

dog bite

of this

westerly

wind.

 Instead,

when the

storm finally

broke,

she was

  lingering

 summer shawled

and

 light wrapped,

draped

in a

hazy

memory of

 blue sky

and  a certain

yellowed

sun.

No jacket,

no shoes,

no umbrella,

no shelter.

No proof

at all

against

the change

in

this

 weather.

 

 

After the

long slow

pass

of the

turning day,

she watches

the moon

being

whittled away –

 how

long

til

you

return?

Belly to belly

Our mute flesh finds tongue and voice

Calls us to this dawn.

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