Dark Morning

Dark Morning

“… Like images in a puddle bent / Projected from the night.”

The misty morning haze
Paints thinly my coat
But kisses wetly my face
Unwelcome & contrite

And quite like a fuzzy mote
In the vision of the day
Floats dejectedly the sun
A lazy leak of light

And trees on the horizon
Hue muted & translucent
Like blue veins under pale skin
Rise then vanish from sight

And that dreary sun’s ascent
Queer’ seems to darken the day
Like images in a puddle bent
Projected from the night

 

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You Filled a Space

Here
Small & safe
You are warmth
You filled a space
Wherein echoed the lonely tune
Of a wanting harmony
And you taught it joy & fear

Tears
I will kiss
Them, reserve
Them on my lips
For suckling at each moistened bloom
Roots of an eager seed
Whose dreams are thirsty, my dear

Cheer
Heart ablaze
Only you
Only your face
Could stir such stasis into wonder
In pools of pride-sick eyes
For you taught them joy & fear

Years
Coming breaths
The blessed heights
The plunging depths
Enlightened nightmares threaten thunder
That tears ‘cross aching skies
In a world without you here

 

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Bent Spines

I have noticed as of late
How drinking tea and reading
Does not simple leisure make

If using one hand for sipping,
The other, a sort of weight
To keep the pages from flipping—

It is a TASK to do both!
With a cup hot and brimming
And a book thicker than most

For ev’ry distracted gaze,
When paused or too engrossed,
Chances a spill or stained page

So I admit to the crime—
Condemned by all a book sage—
Of putting bends in the spines

“The RISK! Lost chapters!” you gasp,
“Unbound by severed glued lines!”
To your awe, I answer that:

Yes, it gives me liberty
To leave my book lying flat
As to have two hands for tea!

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Tethered

Do you see me?
In the holy space above you
Tethered by the gravity of your pride
Dipping down to sip your exhales
Frantically pushing away
When greedily I brush your lips

Do you feel me?
Groping the tapers of your shadow
Naked to bid it cling to my skin
Awkwardly mimicking the dance
Laughing with exhilaration
Then retreating back with shame

How many float here?
In the orbit of our delusions
Imprinted with the dark side of memory
Slipping further from reality
Centrifugal desire
Force, pull, placate these longings

 

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Happy Enough

I feel as though I have just woken up
From a long sleep, on a cloud, far away.
“Darling,” I say, yawning. “What is today?”
But where you once lied beside me is dust.

I am confused and afraid, but the panic I brush,
Instead crawl to the edge of our piece of sky.
“Where are you?” across the blinding white I cry.
But the silence resounds of years lost to us.

Wide-eyed I searched, cloud to cloud, hushed,
Shaking, night falling upon my empty bed—
“Here I sleep!” a boy! peeping through the cloud said.
Though not you, the sight was a welcome bust.

So I let him stay with me; I suppose I just gave up.
Years more have gone by, and now his arms I fit.
“Better him than be alone,” I think, grin and bear it.
He must be my Light to have saved me from Dusk.

I have not told you—he is a hard man to love.
He often leaves our cloud at night. To where?
“To where? Where do you go?” Ask him myself, I dare
But to no avail. Unanswered, I am forced to trust.

It is in these sad times that my thoughts return to us.
I close my liquid eyes, open my palms to the wind.
“Are you still out there?” I whisper, spiriting you in.
But I can no longer feel you, no heartbeat, no touch.

I feel as though I have finally woken up
From a second sleep, on cotton-blend reality.
“Darling?” My voice is changed. “Are we happy?”
His snore breaks—a ‘yes?’ We are happy enough.

 

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