That's where you'll find me...

Saturday, September 25, 2010

The Quiet

You bring the quiet.
A peaceful offering to lay at my feet:
it unfurls
and its tendrils wind ribbons
round my limbs,
holding me close to the earth.

I can hear her breathing.
Tilt my cheek to feel the warmth
of her exhale

You bring the quiet.
Calm the clattering riot of thoughts
with their knives,
and bottles with rags lit
poised at shoulder
to fly and shatter in fire.

I can hear them breathing.
muzzled mouths, with iron brows
smudged black with hate

You bring the quiet.
Flying by stealth to the furthest point:
the searing light
of the desert sun
where I lay buried,
my body adrift in sifted glass.

I can hear my breathing
and then the sound of sinking down
beneath the crust

You bring the quiet.
Find my hand in the smallest hour,
in your sleep,
and anchor gently this
scattered creature
in night and day's creeping dawn.

I can hear you breathing.
We keep time without thought
And I can sleep, lion-like.

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