poetry

the girl with the golden bow

for Takae

she drifts like water
through the house
her hands are curious mice
they scurry from cellphone
dip into the soft throat
of her handbag

she sleeps
engaged in the ochre arms of the duvet
she sighs and moans as the slow waves
of memory wash through the events in her eyes
her whispers walk away from her
growing in gravity

she rests in the gentle
arms of my sweatshirt
the blue cotton calms her
caresses the narrow slope of her back

she lies against me – i can feel the
clock in her heart
her smile spills onto my neck
her fingers grow like roots
into the shadows of my chest

last night we spilled out of the taxi, like a
giddy glass of wine painting the pavement
under the eyes of street lights,
we gossiped like goblins, the
pulse of midnight pulling us home
like the slow notes of a song
that says “we can dance forever”

he bought her breakfast today
he juggled cups & coffee beans
and watched the silver arm of the
plunger seep down into the present

4 hours later she sleeps in his bed
he watches her and annotates an image
vibrating in his head
“she is my goddess today.”

this is only the first chapter – he thinks
stories empty out of every breath
he will remember…
the rhythm of her voice
the patterns she sketches
in a fluid finger

he folds her arms around him
like the lips of a newspaper
her heart continues to beat
and drums down into her dreams

 

 

PhilosopherPoet

Standard
poetry

the city that never sleeps

the city that never sleeps
in all of us
we have memories that
vibrate through a loom of synapses
there’s blood pumping with
a fury the conscious will never bury

the people that never dream
can they calm the voices of commotion
the throat of ocean
swirling inside their psyche

can you walk through a storm
and still listen to the rain?

 

PhilosopherPoet

Standard