On the shelf

Fortitude

Is that a word?

Walking with a fragile heart

Drawing conclusions.

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Spine

The big sleep

Sounds appealing

All our secrets

Running wild

Arrival

Lightfast interior

No black and white photograph

Just two of earth’s own.

Spring

Score pacts through red clay

Fingertip wavy ink trails

Gathering the prey.

Summer

Blood’s sudden distance

In the need for possession

Your disgust haunts me.

Autumn

Ceremonial

Leaves an absence of colour

Still unfastened day.

Departure

Fish, bird, skin held taut

Language, tribe, vast stretch of land

Between you and I.

Delusions of Candour

The suitably informed

Won’t look beyond their first source

That tells them what they knew all along

They’re right and you, of course, are wrong.

Indifference

For all the noise

It is bloated indifference

That is most ravenous.

Our horror in realising

The relative closeness

Of its smile wrapped

Around our face

Smothered in silence

Complicit snake.

Line

We look down into the void,

Its yawning indifference to the weight

Placed on both sides, barely aware,

How close to the edge we all are.

Appalled. Too afraid to let go.

And fall into what had been forgotten.

Territory.

The world seems such a small place.

That, or its lights shine brightly.

And those at the front are left to burn.

Gone for awhile

She’d left such pretty things on display

And a note to explain that she may

Be gone for awhile, perhaps a day.