Departure

And so

I yield to the abrasions of less gentle textures against

The delicate skin beneath my eyes

 Like  damp wool against

tender bareness

Chafing

. . . In shadow patterns shifting on

bare walls, I knew in your eyes a

carelessly absent regard

for the gentle of coming dawn

 While my pillow  lies still warm in the wrinkles

of dreaming whisperspeak . . .

Please don’t tell me we were simply of

the sea

in February and ofttimes July

 moody deep

 deeper blue

Yet of fathoms unanswered

Just once.

Before you remember absent footsteps on cold floors

Know that I found my coloured pencils and

cast in hues of pound-foolish patience, me

and

How  I  loved........... you

With fingers tangled in everything that has

passed me by

pull me down to lowered lashes

and I shall

name*this*day.

Weavings

There he exists, she thinks, behind a veil of ambiguity

where boundaries flex and flux with a force invisible

except for the debris caught in her hair

  and tugging at the corners of her smile

Once-silky tendrils . . . tattered, ratty

pulled from their sticky moorings

tremble in the draft of a heedless notion

brushing past on its own way

Bound together by strands so insubstantial

so vague . . . as vaporous as discarded possibilities

caught by accidental sunlight

she apologizes for clinical nails

trenching,

nose pressed against the sunrise of

certain uncertainty

And so she tenderly pushes away

on straining tiptoes, the wonder of

a pinwheeling snowstorm against double-paned

glass

blue

striking the weight of him along exquisite nerve endings

held so closely

that ragged breath exhaled into a vacuum

of tenderness so translucent that it challenges

the fragility of a spider’s intent.