Tuesday, 6 October 2009

undreamed ghost

night never fell, it just crept predictably
into the violet light carrying fresh dreams
to make your skin shine like the pearls
dripping constellations in your hair
whilst you lie exactly in the spot
where you chained yourself to one version of the truth
before swallowing the key tied with the silken ribbon
of the ends of love. pulsing to the tribal cadence
played on the moon's drum taut and silver deliquesce throb,
i wish you could explain the way snowflakes are cut
so perfectly into shape as we pass like ghosts
through the edges of these circles that grow
in spring's shade where your vagrant heart blooms
beneath a garland of old moth wings worn around your neck
like a mile of song teaching us lessons in and out of time.

1 comment:

Timo said...
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