water through a sieve

The words slip out like water through a sieve,

a blunder of a million trivialities, none which I ache to give.

I’m under a mountain of downpour with your face in view

like a distant sun gliding from the rusting corkscrew.

I don’t know what there is left of me that you’d desire;

there is no use of a broken mirror to reflect your immortal fire,

for you are a flame; subtle in the day, magnificent at night.

I am a tortured robin with broken wing; your voice is flight.

It’s a transparent cloud beneath my life-worn shoes.

You encompass everything I want and everything I might lose,

leaving me here, darling, standing in muddy anxiety.

I whisper dumb nothings when longing for your company.

The tension molds around the organ in my body pumping blood,

which travels slowly until you laugh and cause a flood.

My darkness, in that moment, is suffused with glory.

At final closure, I know these will make my favorite story.

If only I could express to you with eloquence of summer wine,

how the wandering of my head would reach home if you were mine.