Love

On peut pas vivre d’amour et d’eau fraiche

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For S

The weight of the rain cripples the name
of a person in a place
you swore never to forget or let
                               the silence
& the songs & the long moments
of hands twisting time with bodies
entwined in nights we wish would never die,
disappear:

but all things move toward their end,

& yet time hasn’t taken us completely,
so there’s no need
                            to forget

even as we
let go of what once was.

Some nights we cannot see the moon,
but during others its
dignified light
repeats the silver nights
precluding those golden mornings we spent
bathing, deluded
& content.

In the sunlight

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& then when
I awoke
the morning light made me choke as
I remembered
how the gentle susurration blended
with the birdsong & the light began to
curve like the branches above us
to touch,
briefly,
skin within which poison blends with pollen
& flowers blossom before I pluck them
to place in your hair where
they will wither & die.

The past still lingers in the present,
& refuses to leave with the grace
of living things.

This is what regret means:
never to forget someone
or something;
knowing of all the lives that could have been;

to touch,
briefly,
your skin

for the last time.

“Everything I love will die / in due time”*

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Nothing left but the wet
decaying process
of repetition,
                not you
but something else;
unheimlich; the body
rigid
though not yet cold;

failing to feel the ground
beneath my feet
                trembling;
I leave the room
to try & force my fists & skull
                through a wall.

Sometimes I forget that you’re gone.

Sometimes I hate you for leaving,

but as you told me “c’est la vie:
la tristesse sera fini bientôt,

mais je suis désolé mon enfant.”

Sometimes I forget your face & panic.

Sometimes I take solace knowing
that now you’re nothing

& sometimes I can’t stand it.

My greatest regret will forever be
not being there to see
                your final breath.

                            &
what I whispered to you when
                all energy had left
will remain a secret
I will keep forever…

* Iron Chic – Know What I Mean, Jellybean

Ocean Eyes

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With your tongue in my mouth
you try to tease out
the secret of my silence,

but I keep it hidden
                    like
a garden
        full of dead
                    & dying
flowers.

With your tongue in your mouth
you make sounds
that unfold my rib cage, take
each strange organ
in your hands &
show me that
bones need not be broken
                        to be open.
 
                  Somehow,
in the blue reflection of your ocean
eyes, the poison in these organs
rise like vapour to the sky;

somehow,
        that ocean brings me back to life.

So let me in
            & see
if I will sink

            or swim.

Harmonic Shivers

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For S

The heart is only an organ:
anthropomorphisation of the flesh
is just another lie
                             but
poetry doesn’t need truth:

My heart speaks to you
& my skin dreams of you.
Harmonic shivers* slither up my spine
whenever I remember the time we
spent together.

My fingertips have memories
of what we did to each other;
my liver is in mourning, my
veins keep flowing
                               as my spine
                                                  shivers.

* Shivers – Against Me!