Apology With Roses

The day starts with a scream -
high beyond the hill
where I cannot see - 
one last sharp edge of night
gives place to an azure dawn,
sacred and violent 
like the grasp of love,
like the roses I left to drown
in a glass half full.

There is a certain gravity 
to joy, a dangerous side effect 
to light:
shadows take stories 
from our hands -
on the wall a butterfly
dies a rabbit
runs away-
everything sweet lies,
at the bottom of the cup.

I forget to dream sometimes,
and what was seized 
for a moment
in the twinkle of a star,
comes back to me at dawn
covered in regret,
the door is open anyway,
each time a little wider, each time 
a little earlier.
I know still
my soul is tender,
no more in the way of lilies 
but like a bruise
it pounds demanding 
to be remembered.

Here's a useless advice:
place your treasure 
down in the water first,
it will make this happiness 
last longer -
one penny
for each dead petal,
all my heart
for your thoughts.
When you pass by,
even the wind 
whistles louder 
through the trees,
here's a stupid confession:
I am afraid to lose
something that was never mine.

Dust and laughter
come in from a crack
in the window,
the sun is burning this day
down to its roots,
I know again
nothing of it will remain
but the hurt and the love,
what we make, what
we keep.
On the table 
only your glass -
half empty-
and the flowers
the flowers,
they say: ”thank you”, they say:
“I’m sorry”.




© Copyright I.B. 2017

 

[Shhhh I’m not here, you haven’t seen me. I gave my writer’s block the wrong number.]

Photo by: Annie Spratt