12:39 a.m.
monday morn —
bedroom parlour
***
"moon?"
his mellow voice
sang like the birds
during sunrise.
velvety.
and soft.
my head angled
to his position.
a straightened
spine and in
cross-legged
position he
was perched.
he is looking outside.
asking for some
silent permission
to the moon above.
a permission i do
not know of.
he is good at
being silent.
of course,
it's his game
after all.
***
YOU ARE READING
Our Vintage Dance on the Phonograph
Poetry"you and - me, we traversed at the eve of the colossal pages of our bedroom balcony." - excerpt there is no other dancing partner i would dance with other than you, my sun. you bring me to places that are wiped out of history - to the gardens of rui...
