Saturday, 19 January 2019

locum lunaris


locum lunaris

between memories of childhood
and the failing of memory, 
sits the me of me; 
                               stands the i am;
crawling down the moonlight, long
on the slate of snow. 
the balaclava of this domed tomb of night, 
seems like a skull to me, surrounding a dark
and singular place, at the 
very edge of frozen thought.

a needle of torchlight stitches
a bridge to the distance, and where light
can reach, we can follow; the boys ganging
up in unhesitant trepidation. the music 
of heartbeats dare steal a word,
dare to see the axis of our history, 
frozen in this night; 
infinitesimally slow to tear away 
from this once and only,
and leave it hanging there.

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