Saturday, 1 September 2012

First of September

After a deeper silence

in the mirror

I see a lighter black

than the solid block of night

by a near full moon.


I'm forgotten, don't exist

washed out in the spinner

over and over

they made a carving

on my temporal bone

I can hear when I'm quiet

waiting for her

to come of age.


Feeling like I've had too much

this week

last night a girl years away

behind the veil of clouds

though the day had been


enough to walk by Lois

and a grey cat almost invisible

on a grave

moving to comb through some gold

and let me

lie down.


But we walked on

and again before bed

to see her

and an antique moth

through the window

body like a saint

owl eyes on his wings.


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