Slipways
Like seaweed
pulled from sand by tide
must claw his
frail fronded hands; sigh
all’s too
weak, covets limpet’s gluey grip,
thinks mussels
who never can be ripped
want two fixed
shells and clasp the other,
stretch out
in steam to snatch lost lover.
Flambeed
desert dust is blown and slips
winged on buried
wind, aimless tripped
and lost
grip, might ripple water’s skins
falling, flares
briefly then drowns within,
beckons in, tumbles
drunk and drinking
smoked draughts
to cloud gone thinking.
Slipstream sideways held drifted rivers,
grabbed ocean
currents never delivered
me to you my
Angel or you my brother
who lived in me but slipped each other.
No comments:
Post a Comment