micropoetry
Friday
there is life
in window sills
secret plateaus
dormitories of thought
time
cloistered in the settling dust
Sunday
hairline fracture
breaking light
Saturday
handcuffed
for crossing borders
lines on paper
mean too much
Friday
foolish of me to believe
puddles were rivers
stones were dreams
Thursday
sunrise through a latticed fence
I let go
of the big picture
Wednesday
pull me to the delta
let's greet the standing water
with our skin
Sunday
should I stand here
still
as your absence bends the dusk
into darker
and darker
hues
Saturday
a rush
of blood
a rush
of vowels
a rush of
tongue tied
tenderness
Friday
day dwells deeper in the echo of hours
solstice stretching light
Thursday
birds
sewing songs
into the quavering sky
a baroque burst of sound
detailed and disparate
Wednesday
before four
a soundscape of birdsong
gives depth
to the dark
silhouette of trees
Tuesday
etched in the perspex
signs of life
reminding me a window
is still a wall
Monday
the secret shape of pavements
betrayed by the rain
Sunday
hemming the fabric
of her young tongue
to an
old
ghost's throat
words starburst
backwards
Saturday
we'll meet
in the fingertips of trees
in the axil of a leaf
in a different season
settling
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