Monday, December 16, 2013

Under Cover

"There is something haunting in the light of the moon..." -Joseph Conrad

The moon is pulling waves, even in our bedroom,
tonight, in the middle blue, and I am trying to find
where to talk
and my voice.  I rarely speak freely and when
         you look at me, I look away.
I am
to speak from what I know. Simple words
                                     naming happiness or
This is hard because have you noticed it's never
               really fully dark, even at night?  Even
                           under cover
snatched up and around to hide from the breeze
                               or the heat
                               or your eyes?

Under cover of the stars that fall when
obscurity's passion breaks.

I don't know how to unslant
                                     sadness and even less
how to tread
         these tides where my center

How to say that every single
   other or
nightdayyearlife was a lie and this
  is the truth.

How to unglorify,
this pastpresentfuture and see
one moment as clay-
just touch
just hold it
               in my hands, squish
               it through
my fingers without some
           grand plan to mold it
a gigantic, daunting whole story

I have binged
on words, shoving them
                        into an overpacked
sentiment and then had to lug
     them back home.
I have boxed them neatly, organizing
                      them sterile and tidy.
Square and tight for an overhead bin
      and flight.  I, tonight, can not
                 give them wings but
                              maybe, I can
defer to Angel of One Woman's, All Women's
Blackouts and Clean Sheets
                 and Fire and Hope and Love Affairs
                          and I can ask her,
"Do you know taut pull of moon,
its haunting light(ness)?

Do you know how to speak of one
                                the other.  Other
without the one?"
Apart from all these words and still pulled
                           everything paired is one.
The moon speaks without
and I am trying
               to say that (happy or sad) I love you.

The Sunday Whirl


  1. Curiously I thought the words were leading in the opposite direction. At first the soul searching monologue felt angry where if happy a cuddle and snuggle would have sufficed. Glad it was just a reaffirmation of love despite the difficulties that they may been going through.

  2. I like your surprising last line. Well wordled.

  3. "Confessions in Stories" has been included in the Sites To See for this week. Be assured that I hope this helps to point many new visitors in your direction.