The things I forget are simple. Not your face, Or the color of your eyes (blue, with hints Of grey and gold, like the sea at dawn.) I forget the sound of birds marking the dawn, the taste of salt, the touch of sun on my face. I forget the shape of us. You left … Continue reading Castaway
Dawn is a grey cat. Watch: even the frost-limned leaves Barely make a stir.
When you’re gone my shoelaces come undone I drop my keys the kettle boils over When you’re gone the silk of my shirt drags over the sore places like the memory of teeth
Do you see it? That red glow, low and clinging to the horizon, unnerving in its ambiguity. Even the stars recoil. Oil and water, earth and sky— I cannot reconcile them, Embattled as they are— Ardent and unmanned. And so my children learn their place: asymmetrical, the scales of power. Were you about to argue? … Continue reading Discord
The day you gave a rose to me the sun was bright, the sky was clear. I kept that rose another year, despite its sweet fragility. The sun was pale, the sky was grey when winter brought its weight to bear. The frost could not be swayed to spare The rose you gave to me that day. A … Continue reading To a rose