Ksarveel

Ksarveel, splayed fingers,

and breath arrested, staring

through the void both near and far,

in alien lights yet glistening

she recalls the warmth of a star

But there Earth’s detritus spinning

about a whorl of Lethe’s conception

rocks and silky gravel hissing

without sound upon the Sun’s extinction

all about its inky heart and rim

She, naught but ambient life

in food plucked and flesh contrived

knows death by nanoseconds of non-light

bursting lungs through photons sinking

from star to maw, from day to night

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Out the window

Her heart softens over the hedgerows

And she tells him less than she feels

Between streetlights flashing warm and cold

The empty highways through the snow

Months wherein her mouth has closed

She paints the smoking pines, alone

 

 

Separately

He audits life with his mother

And plays cards with his father

Separately

 

He leaned in for a kiss

On the cheek, a crossette

To seal her answer

 

He never imagined they would become

Like his father and his mother

Cameo Shadow

Forsake me, but I shall keep

A cameo onyx and silver

Nestled among sheets

In my oaken chest

Then your shadow will not stray

From the foot of my bed, you

With your white face

And golden brow

Only remember me in donning

Your gown like a night river

And whisper in passing

A word for me

 

Eyeful of stars

Lost in the sheets, never finding the bed

That night no composure came home to rest

No contentment but daydreams banishing sleep

Of a dance in the dark and a touch on the cheek

This false-beating heart will twist her awake

While yearnings prick sweeter than honour or faith

An eyeful of stars to corner her dreams

Her innermost faults, her innermost seams

 

 

 

Of flowers past

Where light my darling coming

Through the white Queen’s lace and fetters

Of summer tendrils yellowing

I see her love of shoot and sprig

Of loosestrife even as asters

Her mouth a bow of girlish charm

Her hands everywhere trailing

So she was six summers past

And so now I briefly see her

Better cast in my adoration

Than all the sun’s rayed splendour

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2017

Image from Karen Margulis

Another

Not another dram of guilt, I pray

In this sickly, flickering light

Yet my hand pours of its own accord

And inexorably lifts the cup

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2017