White Noise

Standard

Although I swore I saw red sky that night,
an army of rain came marching: every pace,
each beat, cheating the shepherd of delight.
I spoke to eyes in the even trapezium of your face,
your motorbike ticked, an impatient timer, warning
us, while we – oblivious – discussed nonsense in detail;
an embarrassing prelude to your body that morning,
lying under the oak tree, bare, a martyr in the hail.
I think about what I said to you, you to me
but cloudy sounds drown out words and voice,
and leave me slave to my lazy memory;
beaten by the supremacy of white noise;
I wish, though many winters have passed
those empty words hadn’t been my last.

Advertisements

Share your thoughts...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s