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we missed each other

This afternoon

Your magpie feather touched my shoulder
Your soft harsh vowels whispered behind my ear

And I caught your stern cheekbones rising under my pale skin,
silencing me before I could ask

Long fingers in my deep black pockets
Earth of fresh grave under nail

You left a papery bag of clotted love
You’d brung it home for sister’s

I smell on your jacket
Hot tobacco smoke in rasping lungs

Long spine twisted still
From that quickdropped headstone

In water reflected
Our shared silhouette etched on granite sky

You knew every leaf in the damp green hedge
You knew the ancient names of the stars

But the long hidden bones of your legs

Which my mother
and I
have never seen

Were gone to ground
Many years before I
Could ever talk

Sen Dominick 1913 - Truro 1977

Written by trysca

Published on Feb 7 2010 at 18:33 CST. Read all poems by trysca
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.

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exquiste!

Poet

Written on 02/08/10 at 05:02:08 CST by priya dileep

heartbreaking verse of immense beauty, every phrase sparkle wityh great pain and tender loveliness!

Oh my..

Poet

Written on 02/08/10 at 05:05:39 CST by tijean

I agree with Priya (seems to be a habit of mine)..

Anyway. This tells me so much - and like other class poems before this, which describe the black clouds that sit over our hearts when family members are lost, it made me cry..

Beautiful is the correct way to describe this clever verse,

Well done

Steven

could even talk

Poet

Written on 02/08/10 at 06:46:12 CST by Natalya

this poem brings through feeling of respect for the lost ones and missing them; thoughts about the life with them if they were alive. it has sadness mixed with memories - but the sadness is gentle, almost whispering. thanks for sharing, enjoyed it

thanks....

Poet

Written on 02/08/10 at 15:31:00 CST by trysca

for your lovely comments...i was trying to explore how what you might call the 'soul' of a person can live on through the memory and creative imagination of another - though i was just a baby when he died.

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