I. space the minute-hand blocks / sun through window or door upon the street index of memory.
i called her once. embarrassed heartbeat / static fabric of the pause brittle leaves in the corner smell of urine pain as dampness through the tinder the wind gathered amidst those trees
her answers were the grass scars of summer.
II. above the sea / the atmosphere’s quarry of
thunder mutes the suburb we grew as the avenue / the scrape of leaves subdued beneath rain sun private in the passage of work – a walk through its limpid edge at dusk – moon abrupt invented frames – dream or bedroom sill – laundered our sorrow on the road. every street drove me through myself / i said ‘you are its eternal aim’ as shallowing waves web minute flotsam through the shell / i willed myself into that grit of silence. sun on the street gravity of the clock falls as hard / as unclear a touch above the surface.Continue reading “memory”