longing

 

if today I wished to say something

I would love the telephone
orange and sturdy
within eye-reach

but not grasp
ing finger-touch

sounds come out your mouth but
words, only meant for pencils
leave grey smudges along the back of your hand
like scales

you,
a busy tone


today has forgotten the spring

I have misplaced
air, drawing from my lungs
pockets of breath

we argue over the placement of days
the weeks rounding themselves into

the light of a heavy frosted
                     moon
waxing like Corningware
dessert plates
in the night


today I wish to cloak myself
in Goodwill
                        purple
jut out a thumb
carry you away from this place of
unrest

across level fields reflecting
the bare sky

grief is too often mistaken for irony
but you I have not yet
mistaken

and legs will never take us
as far as we wish to go


today the world
loses herself in the intimate pull of silence

we crave a moment’s peace

the neighbours give in to sleep
the window drafts

wings uplifting

because
sometimes we let go
before the ground comes
into view