Dear neighbours,
sorry for all the snails
climbing the walls
sticking to your windows
coming in to explore
the ceiling of the stairwell
they moved in without asking
but now that they are here
in my flowers, looking cute
I don’t want them to leave.
Two halves of a metaphor,
the two sides of the sea:
A coin that keeps rolling,
ever walking the line;
and there are heavy elements
in space above
and lighter dreams beneath
the ocean waves,
and whales toeing
the high rope bridging firmaments,
astronauts walking
the floor of long drowned caves;
and all is its own unending
in the chest of uncarved glyphs
tossed unto the crooked weighing scale
to be measured against possibilities
Otherness comes clad in a foreign colour, too full of contradictions to be described, to be painted;
it comes in alien ships under alien sail and flag, the swooshing cape of golden stars falling into a sea brimming with whale skeletons eating away at the fabric of uniform thoughts
Stay until the first star appears
and follow home the blue hour:
September magic,
seeping into your bones,
up from the ground;
flowing out of your fingertips,
taking flight with the bats
and the reeds sing of
summer returning in its softer shape
muted, transmuted, brilliant in
apple-crisp mornings, gold and red
between the wisened green
and the deepened sky
and there is movement
and something more
alive
looking for
a wider place.
starfishskies 