Basorexia

Beneath the woven moonlight

And the glistening lapidary against the sapphire eve

Like ice-flakes on a dark hood

For as great as my nearsighted eyes can see

 

With a cigarette in the driveway

And the feathers of those clouds falling down

My breath and the smoke runs away with the zephyr

And I’m alone again in this pretty how town

 

Without a sound

Waiting for you to come back around

Without a glance for the ground

Waiting for you to come back

 

Like the farmers wait for their flax

Or the women tend to the millions of moths

That sound like rain on the roofs

Or that sound like the crackling of my cigarette burning

Breaking the silence beneath the woven cocoon

Light of the white philtrum moon

 

It’s her and I and the clouds falling down

And just that single solitary sound

Waiting for you to come back around

Hoping you come back soon

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"ice flakes on a dark hood" that glistening line...wish i had thought of it.

i really like the way you use sound in this...like the same sounds come back around, just as the speaker is waiting for maybe a lover to come back around...so that the heart doesn't become moth eaten and full of cigarette burns of stale and abusive love.

[Cris Roley]

Jacob, thanks for the review! I'm glad you enjoyed the poem and got something out of it.

[Beccy]

As long as basorexia doesn't become autolatry, that's fine by me. :))

Seriously now, (and as Jacob clearly does,) I love this poem, the use of our language and the word choice, is quite lovely.

Beccy.

[Cris Roley]

Thanks Beccy!

[Ayushi Jha]

Hallucinatory work. A prodigious poem. Much kudos to you :)

[Cris Roley]

Thank you so much Ayushi! I will read yours when I can. Have a good day.

[Ayushi Jha]

Sure :) you too have a good day