Curved Rhythms-
Can’t stop wondering where this path ends
how far this line of sight extends
what direction this map line plots
Her words freeze across my lips like icicles
and shake my warmth into packages
that look like fancy-wrapped chocolates
that have been left in the hot car
and have now become a ruined gift
These pink mornings extend into the
heat of bright white and light blue
and onward into the gray overhanging tones
of rain and wetness, before casting
purple shadows leaking blackness;
pinpoints of night when I finally find rest
She closes me inside my words
capturing me in the meanings I leave
for her with flowers and stolen kisses.
While her mind still slumbers I have touched
her on her heart with my exploding belief
silently, that cannot be taken away.
2 comments:
I love the images that your words create... so many lines of this piece bring to life vivid scenes that may or may not represent your intended vision, but nonetheless draw the reader in.
Thanks. You raise a good point: my intended imagery or meaning and what comes across individually to each (all two or three of them) reader. A good friend said that I write like I draw. I think that pretty much describes my style. Who knows why we write, much less the way the writing comes out of us...but it feels good to me. It feels like more than accomplishment, it is release and presentation and organization and contribution all in one. Thanks Erika.
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