Sunday, 6 September 2015

A Poem a Day (53): Sing


Sing



Some people sing –

It’s a sentiment I crave

Like the desolate moon

Drip-dry of felt.



These waves run to black

As I weave this rolling pattern

Shimmering to the fore

Where we forget this,

The rhythm of the day

The luster of the sky,

Blazing.



A purse lined with nothing,

Scabbed knees praying low

While the blackbird sings

To waken the dead silence

Seeping in a spiral of stars,

Edging into the mind

Where everyone forgot

How to.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

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