bobbyburns
New Member
smoke reaches up to the grandest rooftops.
a twist of the lightswitch: an amber incense
flees from my window; the coy stars go forth
through the frame, maidenly, out into the
lurid dome of night to disappear in the
black folds of your woven gown, which gather
at the drunken edge of the city.
* * *
you said I could find you in the unknown alley,
in cracked oil stains on a road,
in the sound of moonlight falling against glass,
and in all the other things we saw as wrong in hindsight,
like a reflection of the sky in a crystal sea.
* * *
far from sunny skies, from dreams and sparkling shores,
the nestled chimneys plume in the icy breeze.
I listen to the song their scented breath sings,
spewing choked embers that tap me on the nose,
one by one, a flurry of memories.
* * *
sometimes when my breath was all smoke
I would think of you with your fiery eyes
gazing at the mirror, the cigarette pressed
between your lips -- always a cigarette --
and the half-silvered crest of your face
in the blank night, growing darker,
heavier, until all was dizzy like a breath
of smoke bending against the glass,
which was a mirror, but might have been
a window, and the cigarette resting,
snug as a gun, you'd think I'd just about
kill myself, but you're forgetting that
it takes more than ashes and smoke
to make me forget those winter departures,
when the spades sank into the ground,
we dug our own graves until the ceiling
had reddened and we knew that it was time,
because the light had already begun to
spiral like a seashell when you switched
the lamp back on.
a twist of the lightswitch: an amber incense
flees from my window; the coy stars go forth
through the frame, maidenly, out into the
lurid dome of night to disappear in the
black folds of your woven gown, which gather
at the drunken edge of the city.
* * *
you said I could find you in the unknown alley,
in cracked oil stains on a road,
in the sound of moonlight falling against glass,
and in all the other things we saw as wrong in hindsight,
like a reflection of the sky in a crystal sea.
* * *
far from sunny skies, from dreams and sparkling shores,
the nestled chimneys plume in the icy breeze.
I listen to the song their scented breath sings,
spewing choked embers that tap me on the nose,
one by one, a flurry of memories.
* * *
sometimes when my breath was all smoke
I would think of you with your fiery eyes
gazing at the mirror, the cigarette pressed
between your lips -- always a cigarette --
and the half-silvered crest of your face
in the blank night, growing darker,
heavier, until all was dizzy like a breath
of smoke bending against the glass,
which was a mirror, but might have been
a window, and the cigarette resting,
snug as a gun, you'd think I'd just about
kill myself, but you're forgetting that
it takes more than ashes and smoke
to make me forget those winter departures,
when the spades sank into the ground,
we dug our own graves until the ceiling
had reddened and we knew that it was time,
because the light had already begun to
spiral like a seashell when you switched
the lamp back on.
thanks for sharing!