He called again today. I sensed Him
inside my nostrils, the soft folds of my throat,
the grey melt under my skull.
He didn't stay long,
just long enough to pull clouds the colour of tombstones
over my stars.
I know He will come again,
silent as blackdamp, ignoring all my excuses
as He cracks the glaze of my eyes with His knucklebones.
Your mastery over language never ceases to amaze me. A gloomy and beautiful poem. "Long enough to pull clouds the colour of tombstones over my stars" "Cracks the glaze of my eyes with His knucklebones" Your phrases are so evocative. I think you have a fearless quality when you write poetry that I so admire. Thanks for sharing this, Peter.
ReplyDeleteOnly just stumbled upon your response. Blown away by your words ... thank you so much. I really value your praise & your comments & feel privileged that you have connected with my poem.
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