Here in the Light

Here in the light
that forever fights the darkness,
we exist. Incomplete
                    objects;

nothing more than sentient flesh, yet
there’s always a surplus,
haunting us &
always finding ways to evade our gaze.

We call this thing our Self.

We can never have it; never know it,
not by demanding
                    or calmly asking

but we can see it,
                    sometimes,
in other eyes.

A New Year: Part i

This year gently ending,
            with your eyelids
                closing;

        falling asleep,
we’re lost at sea, each
        swell of the surface
            is a pull
from the deep
                    & each
second is threatened
by a silence waiting
to claim the music
        lingering,
            in shivering
                vibrations…

                    …light
plays games with sound-waves;
        a spiderweb
            stretches
                across the darkness
as we segue into dreams.

For hours we remain there
        but such time
has no significance
            where we are.

In the morning, when the mind emerges
        – a butterfly crawling
            from its chrysalis,
                given the gift
                    of one day to live –
you will tell me your dreams.

They are sometimes mundane,
but often they are strange
            & beautiful:

a flock of birds somehow derail the train
taking you to an unknown destination,
but you escape disaster
by leaping from a window
        & land softly
            in a meadow
                of wildflowers.

I don’t speak about my dreams,
because, it seems,
I only ever remember those most
        disturbing:

            chewing
shards of glass
as a crowd attacks &
        tears the flesh from my bones
            with their hands.

This doesn’t make me fear sleep;
there is
        something laying deeper,
            dormant,
within me
that I really fear.

I don’t think I want to know what that is.

But
        the year has ended:

                maybe
as the new one begins, what we
are waking to will be something
            different, &
                perhaps
this year
        our dreams
            will no longer be
                so divergent.

Dreaming of You*

When the world reclaims you,
& I am left alone again
in my bedroom,

I will take the bloodstains
from the bedsheets & turn them
into roses…

Later, as I sleep surrounded
by the threads that fell from your skin,
I will dream

that each thread is a feather
    of white,
        impossible
            iridescence

& a breeze,
heavy with heat
        will breathe
from the window,
as one
        by one,
            your feathers
    
                fill my lungs…

*Dreaming of You – Cigarettes After Sex