Little prongs, hooks, eyelets
threaded through you,
some days almost invisible, love
a pertinence unapprehended,
magnolia spikes, swept up curlicues of scent,
bird feathers in the grass, a park
we crossed at dusk talking about liberation-
clasps, brackets, childhood mixed in,
the sacred memories-Baltic Sea, the South-
cathces, latches, holes in sound,
some of these, the words
more important than before,
a glimmerance, limerance,
the rain-softened lights among the monuments,
the way I hung back
to see you walking, a step ahead,
as if you were leaving me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment