uncluttered

Your foot is

upon the kitchen

chair, noticing

a little dust

on the canvas

of the ked’s

toe edge.

If we had just kept

running, for no reason,

stayed in

dusty playgrounds

so to speak,

living un-seriously

in the L.A sunlight.

Your hand is

on my shoulder

without pretext

or apprehension.

Noticing your dress

is faded from

the washes,

the puffed sleeves

repeatedly unstylish. 

If we had just

been arm in arm

without a plan,

just reading to

the lonely,

making bread

for anyone,

as easily as smiling.

Your eyes never

got old, to me,

if we had

just kept

lives uncluttered,

like a rented room,

left with just the crease

on the spread, where

some one else will

sleep next. 

Reviews

[. serah .]

-- exquisite poetry... "noticing a little dust on the ked's toe edge" is intricacy and detailing which is to die for... -- it's almost as if you embroider words on a page... -- the image of the dress is incredible too... -- when i read poetry like this, i am reminded of how not just emotions but details too play a role in creating perfect poetic visuals...