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I talk to myself as the night arrives in little caskets slipping over yellow rooftops. Winter slithers & rattles back under the doors, while spring slews in on orange cloud. I say your name & a luster throbs across the walls. Late hours are breach born, full of bent bays of lamp light, I plead into the ceiling until I fill with sharp shapes draped raw, & my little speeches perish in gloves of air. Out of the window, black ribbons streak the riverbank face to the moon etchings. High tides blot me: I still feel as I did when I met you. You're a heart shaker, you wrest the lid from the world, your joy fills my naked mouth. But something has gone wrong, hasn't it? Disordered, melancholy - you, too, see the night-caskets, don't you?   Dublin facades vanish beneath rain scissor arms. But it needn't be so - come and lean on me. I will remind you that spring is come with green armies of blithe devotion, trees flick with leaf, & you are loved. I know you don't even like me to call you babe, not anymore, but I'll live with that - I'll tell the floorboards, the starlings and magpies, the unsealed horizontals that report at dawn: it will be alright, it will be alright.
0
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 8:17 PM UTC
Spring Speech
I talk to myself as the night arrives in little caskets slipping over yellow rooftops. Winter slithers & rattles back under the doors, while spring slews in on orange cloud. I say your name & a luster throbs across the walls. Late hours are breach born, full of bent bays of lamp light, I plead into the ceiling until I fill with sharp shapes draped raw, & my little speeches perish in gloves of air. Out of the window, black ribbons streak the riverbank face to the moon etchings. High tides blot me: I still feel as I did when I met you. You're a heart shaker, you wrest the lid from the world, your joy fills my naked mouth. But something has gone wrong, hasn't it? Disordered, melancholy - you, too, see the night-caskets, don't you?   Dublin facades vanish beneath rain scissor arms. But it needn't be so - come and lean on me. I will remind you that spring is come with green armies of blithe devotion, trees flick with leaf, & you are loved. I know you don't even like me to call you babe, not anymore, but I'll live with that - I'll tell the floorboards, the starlings and magpies, the unsealed horizontals that report at dawn: it will be alright, it will be alright.
EvanS
Written by
EvanS
46/M/DC
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 8:17 PM UTC
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