I am dreaming again of riverafternoons
and your sunlit irides, floodlevel love
on time we borrowed until we stole.
Funny how the past you think of is never
the past that was; the present tenuous as rain
streamlit down the windows of my old place
by the river, all plateglass & whiskey;
my future self’s heart pinched between thumb
and dirt-traced forefinger, whirlpooled in muddy waters,
slipping over rocks. If I knew her now I would say
never mind the scars. There is peace even in the drowning;
the trains will sound their slow mourners’
wail over curves of forever, tonight’s tornado
warning only a siren on the horizon.
To write like this must be a little taste of Heaven…the imagery carries me along on a flood tide of bodily sensations…until I am drowned in a whirlpool of delights. Thank you for sharing your matchless gift and talent.
Ron
Ron, you are way too kind. Thank you. Always a work in progress. 🙂 Hope your own writing is going well.
Ah, how must easier life would be if we could keep this state of mind – loved: “time we borrowed until we stole” and “Funny how the past you think of is never the past that was” Always a delight to read your writing, golden-rich poignancy to slather over my day like a healing balm.
Oooh… I like the bit about “slathering over the day” very much… may have to steal that phrase… 😉 Always a pleasure to hear from you, Lady!
Quietly powerful – esp
“the trains will sound their slow mourners’
wail over curves of forever, tonight’s tornado
warning only a siren on the horizon.”
Well done.
Gracias como siempre, friend Mosk.
tonight’s tornado
warning only a siren on the horizon.
Well,let’s hope so.
indeed.
I’ve been reading through your poems and very much enjoying them. Great work!
Reblogged this on Jane Dougherty Writes and commented:
A poet from The Nine Realms contributors. Visit her blog; it’s full of beautiful poetry.
Reblogged this on georgeforfun.