My true love and I lie without touching
skeletoned in darkness
History glimmers the firelight on faces
The yawn of time not yet arrived
Back in a time made simply by the loss of detail,
burned, dissolved, broken off
in signs we would smooth out like imprints on a bed
a crack was moving down the wall
His sad ghost would aspire, free of my love,
to its own post, free of its careful body
Not doors, but their shadows, slam in the house of the wind
I waited for someone, who came, and wasn’t what I wanted for
I kiss a bone (a relic)
I ache from slow beauty.
© Sophia Roberts
All rights reserved
0 comments:
Post a Comment