Even though the dark is coming
on pussy-toed feet,
I can not leave the silence of the trees;
the muted leaves in the dying wind.
And even though I hear you call me
I pretend not to hear.
I am in that moment, lost in time,
the invisibility of tears in rain.
Baby, I love your storms, but
I am not the best place to find love -
living my life as if I’m forgone,
I am the spent one, my world is in the scars.
These
are days the weather
sits
in my lungs.
White
heat, white sand, white sound;
feeling
like I will never take a cool breath again.
The
lightning aches in my head,
the
thunder shakes my bones;
birds
forget how to fly
and
even a rock sweats.
A
patina of salt coats my lips
and
the gully between my breasts.
Making
love is like a river over an ocean,
all
of the same liquid.
I
note a scar’s width of sweat
on
a tired man’s neck -
on
the porches, all people
speak
of is loss.
Heat
brings those losses
to
bear heavily on
warmth-addled
minds.
The
cat licks me, purring.
I
couldn’t have let you go
even
if I had wanted to,
then
. . . and now.
I
wanted to know
how
love can shatter us -
I
wanted that though
I
didn’t know it.
I
remember,
your
hand of leather
caressed
my face;
your
breath between my breasts.
Your
fingers smelled of the
sweat
of the night, the
dew
of the morning - and me.
Outside
the window, in the dawning light,
the
mountain ridge wears leafy hair of colour;
the
sun creeps on the down of your legs.
All
I can write these days is grief and love.
I
listen to you breathe. I am now all edges,
and grieve about end times.
Linda
H.Y. Hegland is an award-winning poetry, lyric essay, and non-fiction writer
who lives and writes in Nova Scotia, Canada. She writes the occasional short
story. Her writing most often reflects the influence of place, and sense of
place, and one’s complex and many-layered relationship with it. She has
published in numerous literary and art journals and has had work nominated for
the Pushcart Prize. She has previously published two books of poetry - ‘Bird
Slips, Moon Glows’ and ‘White Horses’, a book of lyric essays - ‘Place of the
Heart’, and a book of verses and
vignettes - ‘Remember in Pieces’.
Baby I love your storms!
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