I talk to you as Whistling Kite floats sounds,
Frisbee-descend
- ing, then windshear-alternating,
glockenspiel chuckling
and as beaked breath be gins to fail –
finned disc ululating, tin whistling
pinched off so sud -
den,
I keep talking to you.
...
I talk to you
as corrugated iron turns jittery,
galv-nails grow skitterish,
roof threatens to spread wings, lift
and pelican
to Lake Jack Smith,
no longer rusted, unappealing, cumbersome, unwieldy
but lithe and lovely in line,
though still thoroughly
deadly.
...
I talk to you
as pines yaw in mist-hazed distance,
chainsaw yawps, snarls insolence,
brattles – all snaggle-toothed-insistent,
then dog-yawn-whine-shakes / / / / slight pause for effect –
before bone-branches break,
fibrous skin rip-shreds – swish foliage im
- pact.
Giant stamp of hobnailed-boot.
...
I talk to you
as wind bee-stings eyes, hair tide-streams a -
side,
nose threatens to drip and I, pale, squinched,
worry about none of it.
...
I am talking to you.
...
I am talking to you.
I am
talking
to You.
YOU ARE READING
Borealis Love
PoetryLove - what does that word mean, what does it comprise? Do we always recognise it when faced with it? Do we value it when we ought to do so? Do we squander it when it is too easily given? Do we ever understand until it has left us and we are left to...
