Waiting for you
is like waiting to shake the priest’s hand
and thank him for a beautiful funeral
In stone seamed pulpit
am I the only culprit who seeks
redemption from s(k)in in
Dead Sea Scrolls of other skin?
Ventriloquist placed your words in my mouth
and I talk to myself after midnight,
where the sounds of foxes seeking food
are a portmanteau of dreams and despair.
In dream’air my hand pulls you closer
suffocates every verb of existence
It’s not jet streams which haunt and provoke
but the rigor mortis of planes on runways
“The rigor mortis of planes on runways.”
Quite creative imagery there and throughout.
The first stanza could even stand as a poem by itself.
“Ventriloquist placed your words in my mouth”
I have none of my own any more as I am so taken by you.
Love the concepts developed here.
Excellent work.
j.
you’re too kind. thank you.