In the dark after words my cloudy breath
wandered four slow hours.
An icy fern crawled the bedside window;
its fingertip entered mine and grew inside
like doubt: first one thin spine then more,
then fractal buds, curled fists
ready with an urge to freezeframe thought.
You slept through it all, one arm curled
around my glassy form.
Perhaps this time I will not break,
wake more than less in touch.
re-visioned December 19
image: the bohemian gothic tarot deck (lovers)
spiritguide.com.au
forget me now 
Holy crap…I sat on the curb of “in the dark after words…” just that one space between after and words! A huge chasm. I am in this lifelong discussion with my husband. He likes to hold his words, but they are loud the way they play out in his eyes and the set of his mouth. I tell him these moments, where his words say “nothing is wrong” while everything else disagrees, are like coats that I wear. They pile…and are ever so heavy on the assumptive skeleton they are worn.
Wine & Words – wonderful to see you here!
your response touched me deeply, reignited the emotion (despair?) that set re-genesis going …
atm i don’t know what to do with this concept of relationship, seem to have lost my preferred romantic spiritual path of hope and shine and think that to save/keep my self i should remain alone (whatever that means) but:
what happened to the glorious union of souls, is it really only possible in dreams and the hereafter?
your response is the most heart-wrenching and beautiful prose i’ve read for awhile, i’m awed and honoured that you wrote it here …
aching that you feel this way
luv,
S
Shell, isn’t it curious what lingers in the mind
or the heart … of one if not necessarily another?
i love S2 … really … also the sonic interplay of drawn/dawn … flows perfectly into S3 (and the ample
swirl of doubt and hope) … as always, no?
not so sure about the birds/nest reference … i need
to read it a few more times, maybe a light bulb will
turn on in this dim mind of mine … hehe.
that’s so true, noxy! there was no malice intended, it’s just that sometimes one thing above any/all others hurts me almost unreasonably deeply … i think that one said thing can act as a blotter for everything else i think i ought to keep schtum about … really i just ought to blast it out at the time but i don’t … *sigh
anyway, i’m glad you got the dawn/drawn thing .. did you hear the unspoken echo of hung too?
apparently, one of the less romantic ideas about the dawn chorus is that birds call/sing to announce their survival and thereby their territory … don’t know if it’s true because i prefer to hear pure joy of life but i guess scientists don’t see any difference lol … you a dim mind?? ha! ppfftt!
as you can see i’m now in butchering mode too LOL
the nest metaphor didn’t really work, i haven’t pushed this poem far enough yet… *muah-ha-ha
thanks for pushing me, Noxy … in the best of ways, i hasten to add!
I found this one to be heavy Shell…the predawn trepidation. I loved it.
Aloha Emilio! how wonderful to hear from you! how’s it going, friend??
yes, this one’s pretty heavy … better released than brooded though … i think lol