On the Bank of the Murky River
On the bank of the murky river whose current is so rough, sneezing in the rain of dandelion fluff.
In the robins morning call and the white tailed hares vacant stare, in that foreign language my name is spoken.
But no more words wasted describing eyes in terms of their colour or the weather.
It’s been long enough, love. There are sounds the heart needs to hear.
It’s been long enough, love. There’s a difference between satellites and shooting stars.
Between vandalized park benches and cramped stair cases. The apartment balconies flashing Christmas all year round, the log bridge stripped bare.
Come now, no more I, or you, or we, only the places no one has ever been.
I’m the midday blue and eternities view. At the flock of geese magnetically attuned. The lakeside pebbles and fallen trees finding ways to produce any amount of green.
It’s been long enough, love. No more wrestling these indescribable thoughts; it’s words that erode all things felt.
It’s been long enough, love. Self care has spilt enough lonely blood. Soul searching would replace all life if given the chance to.
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