it's strange how any arm is the length of
shoulder-to-shoulder when it holds you
when you want to be held / how a stifled laugh
& a breath-held tear come together to paint
everything a lush stroke blacker / the watermarks
on the salmon wall an iron claw / the cricket-ball
shattered glass a salvation prophecy / you cannot
drink from an ocean such as blood when your cupped
hands are vague fishing nets of some ancient mother
goddess / this burning atlas is the alchemy of the mind
shoulder-to-shoulder in its catalyzing grasps / the smiles
that docked when the dock was broken / the mouths that
called your name when you dreamt in name-tags of a
forgetful forgetting world / it's strange how any arm is
the length of / shattered glass / you cannot drink from
an ocean such as / this burning alchemy of the mind
~ Ajay
23/11/2019
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
