their voices spilling
through open windows, doorways
and empty foyers
their subtle hoaxes
twist entwined and overlooked
by the hidden truths
and their precious pearls
hanging around beaten necks
have lost their lustre
Writer
their voices spilling
through open windows, doorways
and empty foyers
their subtle hoaxes
twist entwined and overlooked
by the hidden truths
and their precious pearls
hanging around beaten necks
have lost their lustre
touts lurk with their boon
with sly aspirations
long fingers entreat
yet we clasp our hands
our glossy eyes averted
seeking body heat
the park’s long shadows
embrace our neglected sins
push aside regrets
as the music fades
the dwimmer of gentle lights
flood our thirsty eyes
we follow the guides
our dreams resplendent and bright
our whispered plans bare
but as they darken
sinking soft below the sands
holding dust we cry
once radiant smiles
self deprecate and conceal
the tiny embers
their words turn bitter
tasting the shortening days
and leftover scraps
yet our hands are warm
although worn and rough, still strong
and still our embrace
these cultured words wash
drag detritus and flotsam
and forgotten verse
barbs and hooks and ire
misplace darkness in thine eyes
step around silence
Ham-fisted ripostes
the barking of rabid dogs
heckle and cajole
midnight fairy lights
reflect in a tear-blurred lens
the moon is sorrow
her sharp frosted breath
blows a cumulus nimbus
that soon stratifies
then it’s time to leave
her embrace checked by minutes
fading through seconds
early grey dawning
distant screams of herring gulls
a western salt wind
before the sunrise
we wander through empty streets
gaze on shuttered doors
and in quietude
you speak words of suffering
anguish subsiding
clap and stare doe-eyed
the stars become visible
within the wreckage
“We must go,” I say.
She shakes her head, purses lips
and rips the facade.
with this torn vision
I leave her there and repair
with tiny stitches
rain drags her last veil
leaving her grey temporal
her guilt-soaked footsteps
a single fireweed
seedheads bearded in clumped dreads
drooping toward fall
the leaves lay twisted
a rotting mulch of golden hues
torn skeletal lines
step slow counterpoint
our unpracticed hands entwined
dawn’s light revealing
desirous iris flicker
liquid orbs untouched by time
hidden in soft folds
wrinkles under eyes
forgetting age, sorrow, guilt
creasing with delight