Father Away

At dverse Sarah has us focussing on touch, the feel of things. Of course sometimes the tangible is sadly no longer available.

He is out
out touch.
So at night
when the river is a clear voice,
I imagine him as he used to sit.
Leaning forward,
elbows on knees.
As if listening
for something speaking
softly to him.

There would be a cigarette in his left hand,
ignored in these moments for most of the time.
Now he is fully locked in to that distant world of his.
My hands
and questions can’t reach him.

Igniting Dark Places

At dverse tonight Bjorn has us looking at the use of metaphors in poetry.

She sings in the night
and moths fly from her throat,
fragments of moon
pin-pricking dark.

Stars pulse to her song
but they are no match
for the bioluminescence
she casts out into the universe.

And at dawn she watches
that flake-of-night crow
chase night
over the horizon.

And in daylight her eyes
reflect the bone-white moon,
her fire extinguished.