Untitled (Silence)

31 Mar

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Untitled (Silence)

 

I love the rain

but it ended today

like the ambrosial benediction

from your lips.

They walked out of the service

with umbrellas underneath their heavy arms

while your toes curled

in my bed

and some sweet 70’s record

played.

There used to be time enough

for all of us

to sleep like that

but the insomniacs

and the living anagrams

own the world now

and the bed

where we watch each other

like a conflagrant sky predicted by some ancient weathermen

like an apparent truth  

is the only place for peace and sermons.

I kiss her forehead like a fever

which I’ve had since I first wrote sonnets about wings

that belonged to love and no canon in particular

a fugue composition of the heart

stirring towards a climax

and she feels warm

because these temples hide

a lovely cavern where the moon bathes at night

like a myth for little princes

and I swallow just a bit of manna from the skin

which burns restlessly for no reason in particular

and she hides me in her arms

letting me know through her embrace

that there is no longer any lie we need to live in

because we never say a word

and the silent are thus rewarded.  

 

(For Lilia Seven Years Ago)

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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