yuzublizzard

I had forgotten about her.
She sat on tiles transcribing
Frost’s overgrown road,
Spelled out bruised Eliot’s hysteria
In meticulous letters on bronze
Transparent paper. Trembling hands
Caused the cut to butterfly into
The trash.

I put her in a box,
Took down her carefully arranged
Postcards to noone,
And moved.

I plucked
The postcards and packed
Them away, her away, into a box.
Lid on.

I moved into an orange room, light
Shining so fully I did not
Want to interrupt.
I stacked, spine up,
Books on a sideboard,
Clothes in boxes to kick
While I dined. Bed, table and sideboard
Covered in white cloth.

As the books bordered, fell over like
An unharmonious accordion, and clothes
Permanently wrinkled, I cut the wood
And moved

Into a two-bed bedroom. White walls.
The haze set in. I forgot. I forget
Even now what that life was. I read
The days to their ends.

I shut
The door and buried
My nose, head and body into a book.
Shut up.

I moved thrice more before I
Found the PCs -
Postcards and papercuttings -
From Margot’s time.

She must be shrivelled by now.

Two stones lie on concrete carpet.
Three concentric circles spread
In glass as ice melted
Last night; time froze.
Refraction distorts our view, but then
This shop sells
Multi-coloured candies, rents
90-minutes dreams.

The wind moves from west
To east and conquers
Land. The frontier breaths, coughs,
Sneezes white froth and spits
Black kelp, chewed.
Medusas fly. Up
Front the polished armours of fallen stones
Glisten, while above the Border
Collie packs the herd into a dense, hard
Grey. The smell
Of wet wool rises
From patterned mittens. I
Bend, kneel and depose
Another broken umbrella amongst
The many at the feet
Of an overflowing can. My
Heels are exposed, the Koolie’s teeth
Too, as I return to the evening quest
For an empty seat on bus 484.