"belatedness" poems
Cool white sheets. Blue
sunshine filtering through
my hand learning your skin.
Dreaming of angels.
Empty shadows on
quiet streets.
The city breathes in,
grass blades quiver.
A drumming echo.
The hasty steps of
belatedness.
I shift my hand.
The faucets, dripping.
The sunrise pulling
your skin into alps,
but you’re not cold.
A high-rise drips its
concrete breath.
The sky breaks.
Exhale and return.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC