the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

An Iron Whisper

A silent smile cast late into the evening
As expected as the tide but compelling just as much.
You were welcomed with dull moonlight,
And warm white caps gently crashed on sifting sand.
Clear intentions mixed with dirty water to make reflections
But plot holes from empty bottles were everything but a message
Except for the blind grazes that guided this bottled ship along the shore,
Loud as an action and soft as a whisper
That rattled on fragile and fracturing glass.

Call it out for what it is:
I light my own fires on a sequin sea
While a nickel on tails closed parentheses.
From the touch of fabric to my lush fabrications
From the thunderous knocks to tautologous explanations,
With each sew that stabbed a stitch in my side
Was spun a peripheral thought to which I would not abide.
A dizzy lighthouse casts light now on each jagged point
To study the angles of complementary joints
Of how we had fit together on this wooden frame,
And disappeared into the fog of war.

What retreated as the flood moved forward
Was suddenly sunk in that same dull light
As a curious hand gestured towards the dark night.
You pulled it down slowly against long setting skies
Until each movement was submerged in whole,
A map to read with no compass rose,
A landlocked blues and a hollowed out hull.

You found mercy on the seafloor
And I would never see more,
Until your luminescence made your presence defined
As your climb to the surface coerced an enemy of time.
The vessel shuddered and moaned as the pressure pressed on
So I concede with held tongue/[end performance]/say my thanks...
And bow to the ocean and her faltering restraint.

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