deepundergroundpoetry.com

OCH KOCHANIE

Real as the soles, caked with rime
That empty into the wood and lime

That rest nigh the front door

And the allure of that homely flame
Dancing upon the windowpane

That beckons moths to the glass

And the gaps in the symphonic white
To where her translucent thoughts lie

And the bite of the howling wind
Seeping into the hall to meet its kin

That hadn't been felt before

And those orbs that glisten with foreboding
As the crackling of the flame falls silent
With the symphony of snow
And the howling wind

Real as a chloroform dream
As soon as the world goes dark

...is my love for you