The dove grey velvet road unfolds beneath me
Under the black sky heavy with sea breezes laden
With flies and pestilence from over the waves.
The grey green shallows of the black Pacific
Beckon me in vain, to wade into the gloom.
I cannot resist the tidal pull of your room.
You had so many avenues and secret enclaves
I longed to pursue, to pour the breezes of my breath
Into you, to find your interlocking mind.
The black sky rushes down as if to crush
The scattered palms, who don't know what to do.
The departing stars above are too busy for love.
And you, what of you? And what of me?
And what of seaweed swaying in the sea?
What of spools of nodules in tide pools?
The bother of biology and mythology?
Never, ever meant for each other, unless
For a future, as a necklace of shark's eggs.
I can't stand it, I never could, but would
Endure, a meagre vestige of the original
I was, an insect splashed upon a windscreen.
A cockroach crawling out of its own skin
In vain, to step again into the same stuff
Of which the world has more than enough.
You despised my grovelling delight in
Every line of an old form the sight of which
Was too familiar. My vision was your derision.
There is dust along the road and concrete
Cracked, where grasses have taken hold and
Insect eggs discrete, load slender stems.
I long for you still, like a shrill, insistant wind
Over Fundy, throwing the Atlantic on the rocks.
And wonder if your mirror mirrors my horror.
edit on 15-8-2013 by ipsedixit because: (no reason given)