Un-belonging
Undressed from teenage rhythm.
It’s a yearning for
The lost birds
Whose wings you rode
In talkless flight,
Til the silence got thicker
And woke up
Under the acupuncturist’s shadow.
And it needled it’s point as
Chinese wisdom, or as a well-meaning homeopath.
It dawdled all the same.
And you’re all sat right there.
Submurged. Happy as reflections.
Like an underwater photograph,
Mermaid’s song, gargles
Like the frog in my throat.
Almost Bauhaus, Picasso,
Almost watercolour, a mockingbird’s
Impression of a rock.
It was just
Undiagnosed sickness and I’m
Wading slowly into the sea with
my parents stones in my pocket.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Un-belonging
Undressed from teenage rhythm.
It’s a yearning for
The lost birds
Whose wings you rode
In talkless flight,
Til the silence got thicker
And woke up
Under the acupuncturist’s shadow.
And it needled it’s point as
Chinese wisdom, or as a well-meaning homeopath.
It dawdled all the same.
And you’re all sat right there.
Submurged. Happy as reflections.
Like an underwater photograph,
Mermaid’s song, gargles
Like the frog in my throat.
Almost Bauhaus, Picasso,
Almost watercolour, a mockingbird’s
Impression of a rock.
It was just
Undiagnosed sickness and I’m
Wading slowly into the sea with
my parents stones in my pocket.
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