9: What

There was once yellow in these coronary flowers

Born into cracked ice.

Where others looked, mirrored frost

What was once yellow.

 

There was once yellow-

will soon be, faint petal skin

what matters now, snow.

 

Fatherly snow fall

against fatherly clock beat

Clocks have metal hearts.

 

We felt all of time

Fall and blanket before us,

not picnic but snow.

 

Snow that paints the moon

Each night and then that pattern

Clearer in brown leaves.

 

There seemed an order

to the sludge and dying floor

still it comes and goes

 

Still it comes and goes

we placed ourselves in wellies and

carbon cracked the sky

 

hands always intwined,

soon we splintered words, lightning

as youth clutched at pages

 

Fingernails tracing leaves

compressed with years of flowers

and a single day

 

a remembered sun

yellow day lasts a childhood

and melting ice cream.

 

melting ice cream smile

and little more than this

projected moon grin

 

sweep parallel sky

moon before another sun

the same but brighter

 

was always brighter

it colours time, crayon

primary colours

 

primary colours

tainting what we all shared then

indented with grass

 

the grass will be cut

again as it was before

it doesn’t matter.

 

stasis in motion

and fear in new stems perceived

they knit fields to sympathy.

 

Irises revealed

after nature’s erasion

each point of colour

 

each point of colour

bleeds before, colour exists

only in the mind

 

But I remember

All of this in more colour

than exists given

 

I remember but

every other second in

every other cell

 

Cells that return to

storms of ice and sleet and I

am carved history

 

lying in the snow

petal skin soon violet blue

in either case, numb

 

Time’s paralysis

though there was ice, now I swim

fingers or waves through hair

 

Icy new resolve.

Finding self in numb fingers

a love of fire

 

In the first kitchen,

a fire half-remembered

sometimes imagined

 

and those same windows

showing summer and the moon

both a reflection

 

those same leaves as fall

on old festering benches

imprint like letters

 

It rains a lot here

it’s empathetically sighing

against all that was

 

all that was before

in clichéd blue sky and birds

wings strain against the sky

 

aging yellow sky

more of containing than contained

ever  dilating

 

Vision in a glass

Bottled ripped and cloud memory

shows me only that:

 

Unfolding to these

Coronary flowers

Petals on the concrete

 

Partly in wet soil

mostly in worn wellies and

the colour yellow.

 

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