Lilac
Your weight
is like balancing small stones
or a column of water on my chest;
trickles of frequency;
humble –
not wishing to offend.
Compared with darker hues -
you clean me of defence;
lie me out thin;
a sleep growing old
by breathing small
through light narcotics.
Sometimes
clasps of evergreen
are at the shoulder
deciding you a supplement
of health;
docile flower heads
who suffocate love
where too patient
fingers tremble.
These charms are polite,
considerate of others
(how brightly you disappear in a blue room)
but it is the sound of you, I cannot forgive;
the lock of saying your name
velvet-thick;
it folds me in,
fills my lungs with acrylic,
bringing your impossibilities to the fore.
David Blake
Tue 14th Jan 2014 22:58
This is really great Marianne. Brilliant imagery-evoking piece, as always :) x