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
AlwaysRainCheck 