Monday, February 27, 2017

ship wreck ...



ship wreck ...
the rain falls down
in a pitter-patter on the tin roof
above two lovers
twisting into one another
in a seemingly endless ballet
that stimulates a sea of wet skin
and then suddenly becomes a cold tableau
of frozen figures on a canvas
a still-life of desire
never realised
and so it was
if i remember correctly
how you twisted the bedsheets
into sailor knots
and hoisted my longing
like a sail
ready to catch the stormy blow
of your urgency
until in an unexpected moment
you spun out of control
and if there was a harbour near
i did not catch the guiding flicker
of a lighthouse
warning me of the treachery
of your other self
but crashed instead
into the reef
hiding just beneath the surface
of your shallow promise
of love



 







 








 
 


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