It came in bursting whispers
billowing the purple curtains between
the broken shutters…
you sank into the floor
rippling low rollers, low tide
I was suspended, hanging, jerking
under the words “goodbye…”
fluttering around: moths gently
brushing soft lips,
out of blown open mouths
of the faces in the floor
erupt writhing masses
Acherontia Styx
flowing in endless arches
cascading across the ceiling
in fluttering waves and swirling
a winged vortex;
breathing heavily, the moss off
alabaster above our misty bodies
filling with pallor,
empty glasses under Daiquiri
setting the time, our place
far from distant Aidenn
our own fury sat alone, enamored white
bone crossing the threshold of our sea,
tempests of memory.
Our fingers passed through…
fins slicing water
bricks and asphalt part
and the dust settles on the emptiness
the fullness of us
over the sphere of centuries
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
