• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 06
Image by

Rip Open The Window

Tired eyes gathered in droplets
as I rip open the window to let the swan song in.
Stiff mountains bemoan,
Ourea spins in
unfamiliar cobwebs
stretched from the mirror
to the church yard,
they reflect each other
like the flickering and bickering of lovers.

I wipe away the morning dew
clearing the vision of what I left behind.
Clarity comes in half-light,
But the early morning judges time,
the sun, low enough to scorn,
low enough to have found me.
This duvet, this bed, should be home.

The day lies in the streets ahead;
mapped out before I get there,
ordered into noisy lights
that flicker and bicker
like lovers.
A ticket clings
to the warm palm of my hand
binding me to everything I’ve done
before I have done it.
And only I can pretend
I enjoy it
only I,
because the past is as long as my shadow,
that walks behind me
flickering and bickering like lovers.