61. Lingering...61
Two poems for the road and one for the home
1. Sitting in front of a river following its waters soaking the sun She is not the one doing all the thinking She listens the birds chirping the currents brimming She is, after all, the depths’ prodigal son [Under the surface she waves half-mermaid half-done] 2. Sitting in front of a tree each leaf an open rose white and old and light pink Talking under the sun Close to a feudal church we sit in silence and in peace with bricks that have seen sins come and be deceased many ones to be dismissed for the whims of a god and the win of his son But I’m the only one here My sister and the bricks and my shell and the heat of the sun And those forgotten sit with us as the bells ring as the walls lean confessing their unfortunate luck There’s no place else in the world other than this church And the bricks that remember and the bells that surrender this day to us [under the sun] 3. Sitting in front of a cat crying gazing daintily at the bed sleeping slipping into matter giving the illusion of a bear being anything else except a cat sleeping on a bed sighting beside a girl crying the hell out of herself