when voice voices
in
pause
fear
rose
brittled
nothing
works
lost
is all
happily
a
spider
over
monitor
backlit
I
convince
the
star
to
leave
no
harm
to
us
or
will
so
leave it
for
now
this
itch
of
feet
so
leave it
to
sleep
to
grow no thing
again
spider
mute
reminder
of
doesn’t care
yet
valuable
as
breath
as air
Ghosts
across
the iron bridge
into
your courting grounds
the
bird sanctuary
and
the river curving
white
houses on the far side
not
there in those days
late
forties
and
the war a fresh wound
my
feet on the wooden boards
thudding
like years falling
and
the flowers I place
in
the crook of a tree
look
out onto water
where
you once yearned
soft
hand
on
rough uniform
london
hand
on
german fabric
in
your sweet empty youth
before
the grip of life
in
your sweet full moment
before
magic hid its face
Silence
After
the question you knew the answer to,
after
the door is slammed,
before
the act that will change your life,
before
the words you’ve always wanted to say.
When
rain ceases,
when
breathing ceases,
because
all has been explained,
because
there was nothing else to try.
In
the room you left behind,
in
the uncharted regions of your love,
around
those who have lost the trick of friendship,
around
the tree shattered by a storm.
Forgetting
the names of everyday objects,
remembering
the hour truly happy,
allowing
the once-thought impossible,
crying
in the monstrous din.
Mark Mayes has written three novels (The Blue Box; The Grass
Below; Crimes of Others), a children's book (Is it Tomorrow Yet?), a collection
of short stories (Take Away the Sky, and other stories), and a collection of
poems (Winter Moon). He is widely published in magazines and anthologies. Mark
also writes songs.
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