Moments
I open and close doors,
in front of and behind me.
Cigarettes.
Slumbery steps to
the mounted ashtray.
The smoke escapes
from my lungs.
Only these creased
mementos remain,
building up and squeezed
ill-fitting in the box.
Caged moments.
My throat is empty.
Words are rolling back
from the mouth,
piling up.
Once again
I inhale.
Morning Swim
Standing yet.
The shore runs away from your feet,
to home, under the duvet of blueness.
Lay your chest against where water ends.
Before dawn, with sky it comes to rest;
seeking until their breath into one blends.
Stride after stride relentless you push
along the seam of separated hues.
Undulating disquiet between blues.
Your head bowing and raising anew midst
slipping fingers of water fraying to mist.
Empty fall they back, thirsty air still desist.
Forgotten the coast, where they are bound,
you keep swimming.
Sorrow
Black bird! Come, cover me with your feathers!
Shadow me from the mischevous light.
Dragging clouds thus not promise me the sun.
Let your wings be my tent of sturdy canvas.
When snow constructs empire on all that living;
exhale your warmth under my skin, like lovers'
heartbeat through scented chest enchanted.
Give me the comfort of half closed drawers,
the invitation of shadows sitting behind doors,
around a unlit candle burnt its bent history.
Plug your plumag's grey wax into my ears.
In your beak, to the tree from where hunters
in their quieted follies are seen, take me.
I will not sense cold, wait not for spring.
I will be sat in silence as my feathers grow.
Sum
To J. M-W.
Loop of dust.
On the ground.
Around God's finger.
Idling
Along angled course
let the flies dash around
cutting the sluggish air
in to pre-thought shards.
To discover the continent,
that is my rugged cheeks,
eager wings do not relent.
Million flaps never cease.
Leaning against the wind
they are sailing to my face.
Head is rested on a plaid;
above stretches a tree.
Branches yawning circles
into their stacked shadow.
Caring not 'tis the air rises
or they are pushed below.
Flowing over sleepy fronds,
listless light, lukewarm,
in a careless, yielding nod,
to drops it is gently torn.
I am not even watching.
Letting rays fall upon my eyes.
Some glancing, some sinking
in the water that below lies.
Twin lakes, motionless they stay.
Through once unknown shores
Ancient breeze is fading away.
Chinguetti
Ratchet of prayers 'cross the fence.
Buzzing of flies upon my ears.
Aimless wind rises to wash it all away
Funafuti
Any news from the island?
Numb limbs of sky resting,
far, they fold in the waters.
Speckles of ships on the horizon?
Molten glass trembles,
weighs upon the ocean.
Blares forgotten their horns?
Faded wind whimpers
between my fingers.
Have not I been drawing
lines in the sand?
Palm trees press their
shadows on the shore.
Any news from the island?
Be calm. The sea will
rise and recede again.
Figurine
To S.K.
Exhaled the heat,
lungs are closed now
in tightened metal chest.
Off her skin,
last layers of warmth that
had never been hers
peeled and forgotten.
Shadow of the never finished
movement surrounds her
like fallen soldiers sleep.
Still.
Mellow sun trickles between
her fingers poking towards it.
By restless muscles
arms are bending.
And she raises her legs and
dances, dances in the light!
Journey
To R.W.
You wonder
the days,
yester:
jester and jitter
of giggles.
In whispers
of sun,
mellow marrow
tomorrow
yonder years
you wander.
Anniversary
You have always been certain
like the windows leak
the warmth of a family,
of children plodding
with askew open arms
to embrace anyone
during locked out
winter nights...
You have always been sure
that your light would
attract someone
in each second
chewing away that chord
you had bequeathed
from the ancient pastures
where ewes admire their
penultimate stumbles.
Those glassy eyes,
dripping, overflowing
with yearn would
yield to anyone, now,
who bends over
with the careless spine
of a candle.
Afternoon at St John's
As if nothing has happened.
The light bulbs flicker,
Grains of sugar sink
in the cup, bitter as ever.
The waitress bends over
behind the counter.
Cars hooted as they passed.
I have already paid.
Floating
Rattle of blades has quieted.
"Check canopy!" uttered one.
Just whisper of low clouds.
Light rolled on mushy lips.
Rays pronounced slowly.