gently gently make those little
amendments

make things interesting

move it about

I dont want us to evaporate like the
last forlorn drops in the jar. The stuff
you can't reach.  It's when you throw
away the lingering remains of a
once future promise you shake the
meanings off slick with the wetness of tomorrow.

"Some may say I'm a dreamer but
I'm not the only one." You were
promise and gone before I drank
the last dark remains of my beer.
I sang the songs of unbelieving
in the moment before you left me
in the summer's late night rains.

We were spoken of by gods
and goddesses.  The language
was curious and fragrant. Full
and lyrical.  Did you lose their
song?  It was a fabulous song.
I believed in the tune we wrote
together. Tomorrow will fill our
throats with the flattened notes of
a once flying bird.


Caroline Shank
April 28, 2022

I am
drawn to the pictures

to
the new and the already-old

(to
the news and the already-told)

stories framed, set
rolling, rolling ...

maps and suits and flames -

and
the mother -

again

comes a differing hue

with duck egg blue


the ironmongers in town

at one seventy nine


we can walk there and back or there

and bus back you see


he said folk get used to anything

i find this true to a point when all is comfy


was used to the other colour once

sea swim
is saturdays at ten in the morning,
sundays later at eleven.


this too remembered in the bathroom.
we use the pool, mainly.

they used to be called siren suits here and were mainly designed to clothe children during the blitz I believe, and the fashion continued  after, though I never had one.

.was surfing the other moment and came across a heated garment, which sounded cosy and as for hands I have no idea.

.smiley face.

you came again in auto fill

last evening sat alone

we still cannot understand

there is no explanation for that

nor what you did

you are a ghost to us now

fading

we watched it on tv