left behind

The sentence leans away from the centre, from its punctured sides
colors bleed carrying the suns and moons, the fire that keeps
home in every corner of the body.

Distended the word stands, failing to gather color before sunset;
the long evening carries dust under the bed where a bead
lies kicked from memory.

I loop letters backwards, right to left, hold the message to the mirror
for you to read. Silence sits on the curve that meaning takes;
you halt me there, I sit out a lifetime.

Like a long rope of memory a train snakes through the landscape,
the flash of carriages are gone leaving a square panel of ache in my heart
when the yellow light plunges into darkness.

I am the other picking the perfect slant of light that will force entry
through the nine doors of my body. I am all that is left when you leave.
I would rather believe you never passed by.

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Photo: Graham Holliday

 

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