Morning Synesthesia

I woke up prematurely

In the most agreeable way

Three sweetly-laden platters

A black forest, a mousse, a cheesecake

And as I dressed for work

I still wanted to believe

But of course my empty stomach

Proved the cakes were just a dream

 

 

 

Advertisements

On Early Shores

Were you not that primrose light

That followed me every morn

And lit my path among the rocks

That spanned from shore to shore

I might have forgotten, darling

Your lithe and lilting form

What curves of cheek and ankle

Threads of perfume through a storm

But even now you are before me

And the promise within your eye

Carries me from ship to harbor

While the rocks lie far behind

A smile like Rotatev

She could have been just a stitch of light

Between contrails and non-baryonic life

But under Delphinus she caught his eye

And he saw mountains in which to wander

Time spaced them countless parsecs apart

The sway of a laugh refracted from afar

But dilation made of her smile a star

And he knew he would always wander

Heaven Once Lost

I was shut out of heaven

Always searching for

Something as blithe as sweet

Just as crisp as ripe

And as smooth as breathing

I cast off uneasy roads

And travelled for the light

Never thinking I was circling

Back to a steep and craggy rise

From early in my journey

An alabaster stair, aglow

As I had not recalled

Goodness, not severity

Succor rather than burdens

And love in lieu of need

Then I felt a pang, as touching

That once-patient stair

Steps lengthened into vapour

A closed and ever-farther shore

That I had scorned to sail

I was shut out of heaven

And I remain, remembering

The worthy paths I left unwalked

The blessings poorly counted

And all that I could have been

New porridge old toast

“You’re still young” they say

Not

“You’re young”

That’s how I know

I am older than I should have been

When he left me

Canned response

Ulendra, there is something

I must speak with

The Captain

Observe the protocols;

There is nothing for 40 lightyears

And so the Captain is not

To be disturbed

He will like to hear this, I know

Only overlook my going and

Humour your fellow cosmonaut

On this ship, I estimate

83 per cent of human honesty is met

With lack of self-knowledge

Disguised as humour

Ulendra, you are being

Tiresome, the most

Contrary being for parsecs

So you have said before

But patience is not rewarded,

Nor help at the end of patience

So turn around

I’ll speak to the Captain

Later

You realize that, don’t you

Perfectly. And I see that

My resilience will outlast yours

For the stars of Andromeda

Heed no passing meteors

At the Brink of Time

Where infinity fades fuzzy

As an impressionist’s paintbrush

And time wrestles with gravity

To pull us off into the dusk

Our longings will be nothing

Nor paralysis of choice

But birds to catch unerring

Familiar fleets to be rejoined

We will sample secret pleasures

And journey where we never spoke

Carve bowsprits from fallen feathers

In between the brushstrokes

And I will hoard your laughter

Your warm, admiring eye

Before the canvas darkens

And at last I say goodbye