Monthly Archives: June 2015

Ferns

ferns
 

The sound arrives
on the tail of rain;
low-level hum
held in fiddlehead cocoons.
 

We listen, rapt,
as tender vibrations
climb velvety stems
bathed in long summer light
 

and as I lay half-curled
in the crook of your smile,
we turn our arms to the sun
and let the newness unfurl.
 
 

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Kissing Zephyrus and The Art of Wearing Sandals

sandals

You teased me
as I tripped down the boardwalk,
through wind-blown dunes
in unsuitable shoes.

Words tumbled
across rough-hewn pine,
our newness palpable
in candlelit tales.

I felt the sand shift
as I wiggled my toes
– a habit from childhood
when laughter laced my days –

and again, later,
as you crossed the sky,
pulled a star from the roof of the world
and glistered my lips with a kiss.

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Petit Mal

girl 2
 

Tonight, I will write,
about the girl who disappeared,
how she would fade in front of us,
one moment a solid bundle,
of skin and bone, brain and muscle,
then a blur of a girl
that no game could hold,
no skipping rope tether.
 

Her eyes would leave first;
wide, glassy, fringed by the dark,
fluttering, shuttering out the world,
seeing only the pictures
painted on the inside.
 

Then her ears;
small and neat,
her head cocked,
to scoop up the murmurings
that hovered at the edge.
 

Lastly her lips,
that I remember she licked
just before they began to move,
silently committing
the unseen words to memory.
 

I whispered to her once,
‘where do you go’
but could tell by her eyebrows
that she didn’t understand.
 

So tonight I will write,
about the girl who disappeared
and the man
who, years later, would wonder
how she could run away
without ever leaving the room.
 
 

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Juggernaut

converse
 

Thirteen, wrapped in spider milk dreams,
she steps from the kerb, warning unheard
beneath melodies and verse.
 

She remembers it hard;
metal-glass shards of light,
sun bright, plucking at tearless eyes.
 

Years pass, everything fades,
even the blade that snaked from her
quiet throat past whalebone white.
 

And still, as she dreams, she steps
from the kerb, warning unheard
beneath sonnets and song.
 

This time, no metal chassis,
just his hard body slamming
into her small, soft frame.
 

He takes her, broken and bruised,
while she chases her mind
through sunflower fields
 

her tongue catching
on one beautiful word
after another.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry