Brother, lover, writer

:ars poetica

Brother, before I relapse self-indulgently into dreamscape

 I walk through the snow in my dress

to search for you.

And each night when I don’t find you I come home;

 snow drips down my hair and face

as I fall into bed,

 shivering and vaguely upset.

 

Although even that feeling is distant.

 

Nisaye, niiji, I could drape scraps of every love language around you

And I’m afraid it would still not be enough.

My ghost limbs ache with cold.

 

Brother, please come back.

I am half of me still,

half of me left all alone.

 

sing a very sad song and maybe you will return to me

 

But the air is blank,

The ink ebbs only.

Reviews

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:: you hold your words very gently... in a vessel of loss... and sing the songs that could bring back memories and turn them into infinitely poetic memoirs... i don't know the english language well enough to comprehend each nuance of this beautiful poem... but i hear the music... and i hear it well enough to close my eyes and find some of my memories... of what was and what could've been... :: beautiful work, dear poetess...