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By penelope Date: 2005 Jun 12 Comment on this Work [[2005.06.12.08.24.13593]] |
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Because I would not listen, my mind made me dream you instead. Concealed beneath sleep's black ash, thoughts of you shoal and flicker like fish; in the shallows of my wakeful mind you are swimming. I stand, waist deep in cool water, nets spread like a sodden skirt, fishing imagination. Your face forms first fragments of silver and shadow all glimpses and guess work but still, the line stays loose. I stretch, nets billowing lines at full length, half-fearing I've lost you in the vastness, until in one sudden movement the line pulls, nets tighten and I plunge into sleep's black breathing, caught in the curl of your presence. Here, surface storms don't reach us, the pitch and toss of want translates into softer vowels of heave and swell as I am carried over still coral, muted rainbows of drowsing fish the sea wedded wrecks of those others edges furred and furrowed by sand and saltwater; though I am not here to join them, yet. Tonight, I can swim further, freer, explore the distant blue depths of you in your absence carried away and away from myself until I can no longer see the shore, nor remember how to care. In the morning, will come waking, against the bitter edge of land, but tonight I am swimming again In the slow rolling tide of your love. |