you were the softness of feathers and the harsh cadence of grief, you were the sky’s frail mists and its glittering pools. in the warm indigos of summer i welcomed you home, the sea with its engine pistons played loud harmonics, it wasn't the noise but quiet i wanted most, the way i wanted you, star silent, drifting like a boat.
[tonight]
tonight i can't write poetry, a star is just a star
[shadows on my bones]
"when everything is washed out like faded jeans"
i thought i could stay alive but there were shadows on my bones, summer fell through my lips and washed the colours from my shirt. i became a lizard in the dry heat.
the sky layered greys into clouds, told me how expressive it could be and then turned white. i wasn't going to argue but i liked it better blue!
when your heart is full of softness it gathers the flowers of dusk.
the sea is so far from me now, how can i remember a wave or the bluster of the wind? i am as forgetful of shape as foam, i am as broken as driftwood, i am the memory of something that never was, an impromptu impressionist painting in ink.
[i've not written]
i've not written for a week. i need to visualize, feed on an image, grow out of immense distance, slumber on the rocks. i need to paint a flower in all its frailty, gather the skies on the horizon. until the bright lilies have drowned me in their white linens i will not feel whole. gathering, gathering the world, its moments stormy rooks.