The Hills, and Other Little Things

Somewhere, past the tin can church we held,

Lie the words we have shed

And those we still hold.

 

Come now, these clothes are weighing us down

Let us set down this burden,

Lay naked on the cliff face,

And traipse the mound ten thousand men had marched before us.

 

You seraphic eyes, blondebrown hair boy

             of old folk tales and love with open arms

                    and flatpain chest. There is no life save when these

                              palmsmeet. And these chests heave in haemophilic sunrise

 

There is Sun in these vessels

and the trestle in you.

 

He who loves between beigewhite knuckles

                    and the folds on page 21 or 32 or something

                                                       and floors of empty port glasses

 

He who I lost in the recesses of adorno

                     and the baring of these hands

                             and the falling in these sheets

 

You are falling apart around me,

pooling at my feet

staring up my skirt as I cry

 

Long lost friend who I had never found

let me find safe in the crook of your heart

you do not have to loveme tonight

Just hold

Do not let me go

 

We can reconcile

       these pieces;

                               put us all back together again, with what we have collected since

                                       us both, we have been broken

                                                  must we be fixed?

                                                can we not be found

                                                 amongst the rubble

                                          and in the curve of this slope;

 

Look, they have paved us a path through paradise

And destroyed it on the way

 

Can we see the hedges as friends

and not as boundaries

As shelter

and not backs

 

You of upturned cornered mouth and soft eyes

You of patterned speech and quick tongue

You of finding and search and unspeak my uneasy

 

Thank you for showing me this green again,

                        and showing me learn again

and uprooting the complacence in my lost

and unearthing the shrapnel in me I’d forgotten to love.

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