Photo by James Ranieri on Pexels.com
Step high into your shoes remember 1997
religion is in the wind and the climb of dark
you swoop around me like fabric and rage
we dance in weave with each other my eyes are
closed and see
how you want and how i want and how neither of us
shall never get what we need
i am loose shouldered and my hair is indigo in
the winter time where people close their doors and
you hammer me open against cold grass
lattice clocks pressing their time
henna tattoos, a marriage of dark and light
the sight of you in circled moon glow
our motion and our resurgence
the way young bodies climb and fall against
the future
bare feet on splintering wood you say
look how your shape echoes against that glass
and you take a photo in your mind as I hear
the fast train we missed, rushing past
leaving its tossed exhaust
I held your head in my arms you talked like
people do after they are spent
we pretend we know everything when we know
nothing
whirling silently in space
the fabric of the world is torn and gaping
like clothes ruined by a furtive need to
be pleased against rage and sadness
proffering bouquets of need hidden behind
retreating shorelines
it is the chemical of your blood and mine
swirling behind our eyes lying to each other
and the stones are hard even when you
spread a blanket on them
just like you said it would be mama
gathering my hair and watching it fall like
words cut from meaning against shadows
breasts that hold their secrets press against
the burning beneath
and the world is raining
and we are missing
cut out silhouettes
rubbing their imprint
in memory
Reblogged this on TheFeatheredSleep and commented:
My latest on http://www.Hijacked Amygdala.com
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Passion’s risk and reward
Anxiety and ecstasy
A dance of close and far
Knowing and mystery
Surety and doubt
Adventure of desire
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Oh I love this Bob! Surety is such a great word isn’t it?
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep at Hijacked Amygdala – Passion
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Thank you so much for this reblog dearest Bob
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Candace this is amazing
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sry Candice, lol forgive me dear!
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That’s okay and thank you so much my lovely for reading this. For some reason everyone spells my name Candace must be American spelling? Pronounced Con-DEECE but don’t pronounce it that way here as would sound pretentious – thank you for reading this so glad and yes you owe me an email 😉
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Reblogged this on RamJet Poetry.
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Lovelovelove this.
The momentum of the moment
….is glimpsed….
(not captured, not frozen, [it can’t possibly be] but Seen)
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I really really appreciate you
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