And maybe there’s still an oak for us
in a deserted field, dropping mosaics
of shadow and light into my open palm
amidst the rushed whisperings
of adolescent summers,
and that would be the only
cry of lost and shattered worlds
against the battered shutter:
catching the last of straying sunsets
into your bleeding
| i see this as a companion piece for porcelain...|
well....i may be off...but apologies are too late...
or are they?
your bleeding eye...
maybe it is not the speaker's apology, but the significant other's..
sorry to have treated you like a discarded doll, and maybe we could get the dreams back...
oh well, probably the incurable romantic in me...seeing reconciliation.
but i really like both pieces...and i like your endings...you build a certain crescendo in your pieces, and then hit the climax well at the very end.
you leave the poems open to interpretation...yet the closings don't just hang there...they are tight and sharp.
|| Posted on 2012-04-22 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] |