Salt Water
Sun, 3 May 2009 at 04:00pm
untitled
The door shuts again, leaving me forced
to fill up my days with
anonymous chores, pointless worries,
places to go
when the dark falls over
this city.
Like a taxi going off duty,
your eyes close
and surrender
to the pleasure we make.
(Our pulsating hands fit perfectly
like the way sea-froth clings to the end
of the sand-strip.)
Hopefully the salt water will orchestrate the things
you won’t make me say.
So while my pillowcase fills
with black tears,
you’re thirty seven bus stops
and five extra miles away,
in a room of green air, and we both know
the sky can never be distracted
by the beach.
- <<
- <
- >
- >>
O:
ZOE YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOU WERE ON HERE!
You know how much I love this poem and I think this version, after all the workshopping we did together, is the best.
You rally got that taxi driver simile working really well and I love the brackets, almost as if they embody the closing of the hands together.
Really hope you start posting more on here,
you should also come and check out the forums and meet the other guys
most of them wont bite :)
Bowers
xx