There is a Devil in my belly
She calls me on a shiny red telephone
Wrapping the cord around my throat
Exanguinating hope
An angel resides in my heart
Her lot is heavy but she refuses to be submerged
Even as we all spy bruised storm, gathering momentum
Life’s hungry dust bowl howls across my bare feet, thirsty for saving
And you 
You write me in posie
And despite the ocean separating us
I feel you clasp me tighter
When I ache, you assuage
When you cry, I collect your tears
To swell the ocean and bring my craft
Over emboldened water
Whenever sickness or sheer twist of living knocks us down
When I fall, you stand 
When you falter, I am balance
We’d have made good slapstick act
We capture each the missing half, with fullness
It is the turn of our dial
Sometimes set on hot, sometimes cool
Arcing time and years like birds on wire
Sleep and yet, do not lose
Their position
You are my compass
It is no longer possible to imagine
Longing, without you
You are my appetite
The favored toast
As we shakily celebrate survival
While day closes her arms and slowly
From Wardour Street we pick our way
In search of open places, like ourselves
Braving against
The absence of light

0 Replies to “The absence of light”

  1. Why is it that the gut seems too often to have last say? The “slapstick” moment gave me a little smile! It’s good to sense companionship, for mutual strength!

  2. There are poems and then there are works of art. The pain of this is oddly beautiful and expressed with character and intent. It’s solid from beginning to end.

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