flat.fish.flesh » writing

Your love’s become a dance for twos or fours

tim — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 20:15:10 +0000

Your love’s become a dance for twos or fours,
transported by the song to old parquet.
Us couples, arm in arm, flock to the floors,
turn easy arcs and circuits, step and sway.

Dance master has commands and we will swing
ourselves about our partners close at hand.
This twisting time is bent into your spring,
unwinding with the strut to beat of band.

In interval from pluck to the next strum,
sweet drama re-enacted by us each,
takes pause from urgent motion, waits to come
back with that pull into your tender reach.

Our ordered cycle finds us back at start,
again to form your love into an art.

A copper shadow cast across the street

tim — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 07:00:34 +0000

A copper shadow cast across the street.
Your yellow skirts all fallen. You laid bare.
Some soft decaying murmur at my feet.
No breeze or broom to shift fresh leaf from there.

In scattered patterns covering the lawn,
brief ghost of green, alive and burning bright,
is radiating colours from that dawn
and waiting to be swept away tonight.

Four feet can scuff a trail right through calm scenes,
they’ll roll your fading prints into a mess,
but what of summer dreams now smithereens,
though held still, felt and thought out, nonetheless?

The image left by leaf’s begun to rust.
Go find its beauty in the year’s bronze dust.

I threw a bouncing ball

tim — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 18:47:38 +0000

I threw a bouncing ball today
for dog that chases all,
to fetch again in playful way.
Catch, carry, let if fall.

There shone in dog a darting light,
a pleasure in his sport,
between his teeth, within his sight,
as, snapping, ball he caught.

The timing of each buzzing leap.
Coordinated joy.
No jump could ever be too steep
for hound that plays as boy.

And in the flex and spring in him
true physique is laid bare
with spirit sung right out in hymn
his whole life hangs right there.

San Franciscan Gillian

tim — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 12:19:20 +0000

The time it took to loose the look of you.
I saw your smile on other shoulders here.
So strange to see her stranger in my view
and gaze into two eyes again that near.

An age of days is gulf enough to drop
a face from love into the flood and fall,
to sink until restored by glance at hop.
An instant, unexpected. This recall.