Drowning Daffodils.

You begged to go swim –
to sleep
deeply, of the fish and ocean.
So slowly with the rising of the tide
we sank to our knees, dancing
for reasons of know, knowing.

We had a love house
flooded plains, hidden from
the fat eyed women and flat capped men
who sat outside, beside their view of life
wagging their
tongues, of debased woe.

Remember when they found us, seaweed
rolled – with hair a mess and features
cold.
Didn’t I say – we needed to rise

but instead we kept on dancing
far beyond those fields of
golden, swaying daffodils…

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Faces.

I met myself today –
hideously fragmented
not proud of the way I was on display.
I muttered ‘I don’t like you’ she replied:
This feeling is mutual shall we call it a day.

I sensed we both felt the strong need of summer
yet summer she made no haste.
Rising slowly, lingering overly long, half dressed
only to be beaten back
left strung out low, on egg white frothy
triumphant clouds.

I suggested we dance – harmonise as one
pointed toes, shadow less – interpretations.
Yet how rapidly you rotated, shamelessly disfiguring
my vision of life
Bitten back by the envy of your fun
I withdrew myself as one; back to where
winter is always, winter, wearing forever
the exact same face.

 

Poppy
April 1st 2015