Last night
I held out my palm
to catch hailstones
to store under floorboards
where all bad things are kept
like spoiled apples,
letters paralysed by tears,
junk I bought
then jammed into toasters
so at least I could say
I put them somewhere.
It feels chillier
when nobody's about,
and the roads
and alleyways
are clogged
with silence,
the inescapable
winter blackness.
I find your name
on my window
drooling away,
a skeletal row
of faded transparent roots
and when I woke
I desperately wished
you had put it there.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
Last night
I held out my palm
to catch hailstones
to store under floorboards
where all bad things are kept
like spoiled apples,
letters paralysed by tears,
junk I bought
then jammed into toasters
so at least I could say
I put them somewhere.
It feels chillier
when nobody's about,
and the roads
and alleyways
are clogged
with silence,
the inescapable
winter blackness.
I find your name
on my window
drooling away,
a skeletal row
of faded transparent roots
and when I woke
I desperately wished
you had put it there.
Written: August 2014.
Explanation: A little poem written in my own time that doesn't really fit into either my dream couple series, or city series of poems. Layout not exactly how I wanted it, but happy nevertheless. Feedback always welcome.
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