Friday, April 12, 2019

Sea Trash





Sea Trash




You've never known you carried

that force
which breaks the idea's skin
with no time for
an aftertaste
neither regret
nor understanding;

that you made love

 a leaf lightly spinning
already dead but flying
laughing to be
no longer itself
only something falling
into the old gods' wide arms;

that the moment they were born
your words were

my  million separate siblings
fluttering, full from eating light
then put to fire's smoking
neither regret
nor understanding
for something changed and burning:

a life you never saw
that broke the brown wren's shell.

And now

sweet noise and dust-light sparkles
sea trash in the soft salt tide
of heartsblood oceans,
bobbing from here
to gone.



 April 2019







for my dear friend Shay's final Fireblossom Friday, where she asks us to "write about love for someone who does not know you love them."






Images: both Untitled, by Zladislav Beksinksi via internet. Fair Use.