Recent
a figure in a flurry of memos observes her pendulum clock
work through all the rules and I will know how to act my part
men, part citizen, nothing to uncover
story of the land being uprooted, and all the while she is keeping time
she is
like an oak in winter
a rustling
a blackbird recites a piece by Shakespeare, mis-attributed, all rights reserved
or righteously open and bleak
as if there’s grey that I don’t know, polar opposites
a prison of desire
a menu of choice, three dishes
presented and discussed in hushed and revered tones
in passing
only the smouldering of the fire reaching my ears
I am so quiet, I am
so quiet, I
barely know how to articulate my consonants
constants I try to hold on to as the world stays in motion
blankets of sorrow draped between the trees
like an birch in winter
a fleeting murmur