Final Days – 2

I keep this “secretly/desirably” simple (make everything in past tense):

I break into the fragile snowflakes as I pass the same dodgy

mate in all his glory. I admire his reddish socks, adoring

the feather on his beige chapeau. Who bloody cares about

tonight’s full eclipse? I still worship the virgin moon

as I wander under it with scattered thoughts. I stumble

along, growling and shaking. I’m lost. I’m found. I

repeat, “but I don’t feel down.” My companion tonight

is the taxi driver from Ghana. His random smile,

his ring tone, melt my hijacked heart; rescue

me from the nonsense terms that translate

into what we both learnt as lies.

Impatient, fearless, intoxicated;

I play tonight’s song, and smile

big at our (long) overdue

yet predictable

rendez-vous.

To be continued…

S

Final Days – 1

I just regained my sight

and saw myself floating

in between the silvery sky,

the knitted daffodils, and

the natural delights.

Eyes closed; eyes wide shut.

In the stranger’s land;

sunken in the night;

drunken in the drips;

I sweat and then smiled.

Beneath those closed eyes,

were the hot summer days,

the screaming on an old tape,

the lost Roman chain, and

an unknown tomorrow.

To be continued…

S

Confession(s)

Crossing through the red crosses

and the memories waltzing in my

veins; all pressing to the brain.

The lonely brick and my aching feet.

Only us witnessing the angry sky and

you, you were wading in my tears.

And once again confession(s),

across the years minus the

days, remains silent.

What confession(s)?

Does

not

matter.

S