Obliquity

An afternoon sunlight carried a shade of winter, an oblique sharp razor that stretched my skin and again I live, those northern seasons with a feeling of deep intimacy, the warmth addicts long for. After the agony there is joy resplendent as now foretold by the decadent song of my city, sank and reborn from beneath always, again and again as water recedes from the river. The choir of the stretched trees, spreads an intense mantle of ochre resplendent on the porous walls, it resounds all along. I saw your face sunk into the depth of an alley your thin hands white as snow handing the dripping cold water. I stood obviously embarrassed, my sight blurred, my eyes teared I pretended to search the stacks of old books for an appealing title “None is yours” you have whispered, freezing sound of truth.