I won’t live in this empty, bleak
misery of a sunken ground-zero,
trees, black anemones
straining the grey murk
for microbes of dusk,
rain-streaks distracting
a bathyscaphe screen.
I deserve better too than share
leathern, drawn anxieties,
waiting rooms, the sere care,
the chronic torture there,
numbered days corridored
with forgetfulness.
It is you I must let go to hear
the cavalry of my own contentment
rhythm shells of days,
breathe easy in air,
I never shared
with you, flowing through
my own lifelines,
boyhood eager to work the pumps
for this old deep sea diver.
A thousand unsleeping eyes
of hawthorn, dulled but watchful,
as I lift this pearl.
...
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
