Laura Hew Poet I do not know?

These Days

These days
The sound
of a the busy
signal
echoes
in 
my
eardrums
Like
the
sound of a falling pin
in an abondened
home
so cold
These days
its like
we 
are falling
apart
like finely woven
sweaters
that
slowly
unwinds
spinning
me round and round so that
I am so dizzy
like
my grand mothers
crystal
on fishwire
so brilliant
are the
colors
yet
we are blinded by the light

and
these days
Sunsets
and sunrises
come and go
Gods
etch-a-sketch
I race to
capture traces
of my life
TO SHOW YOU
but
we are overturned
and everything IS GONE

These days
I
cling
to blankets
for solace
for
comfort that is
unreal
an imitation
for your affections
and still
I shiver
at the thought
that
i need your embrace
as the fall nights
turn to wintery
days.

These days

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