10 May 2013

April

Raindrops trill and shivering on the window
being blown simultaneously away and towards by the impact of the wind firing towards us as we fire towards or through it
bullet feathering through space
shrill as the same point over and over with still no response and so still shriller and shriller

This could be the saddest dusk
I've ever seen
Turn to a miracle
High alive
My mind is racing
As it always will
My hand is tired, my heart aches
I'm half a world away here

white cliffs
dissections
sudden at the window
jutting like a hipbone pressing in
sinking in digging
a whole four and a half days since those hipbones sweet and matching (I pray for their symmetry)

sitting tight on the blue sofa waiting
a grumble here at something else
unloading the dishwasher to kill the time

I look into the sky wanting his comfort and symmetry
for the knots to ease in his lower back for a good night’s sleep for a bowl of oats for forgiveness again and again
the sin repeats itself like the sun

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