October 15, 2009

poetry on the bed

You were reading
poetry on the bed
while I packed my bags,

the yellow lamp gathering the night
like a swarm of blinded black moths
filling the room with thick dark flutter.

I packed my bags, thinking
of all the men on all the beds, all
they had done, how none had ever read poetry

and how easy it would be,
how light the silence passed over us,
how the light passed over your face,
and how easy it would be.

But I packed my bags,
time ticking off till take-off,
folding clothes gently
around your fingerprints,

carefully preserving evidence
of night-gathering yellow light,
and you, reading

poetry on the bed.

3 comments:

Tina said...

wow. I saw you both, actually 'felt' is a better verb.

lovely.

Boney said...

I really, really like your work! I would love to get your permission to post this piece and more to my own blog - a sort of revolutionary community of artists spreading the good word thru all mediums. All credit and ownership will remain yours, of course, and I will provide a link back to your blog if you wish. Check out my site: www.syntaxarmy.com and let me know if you'd like to network!

Cheers!
boney@syntaxarmy.com

Mizzholborow said...

This is absolutely stunning...this is the sort of this I would pore over for hours; it's exactly the beautiful sort of writing that appeals to me. You have a natural touch at this. I found your work through the syntaxarmy website and am so glad I did; I'll definitely be reading more!
I write poetry too: www.goodnightindigo.blogspot.com

Keep up the amazing work! xx