deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Ghost of My Ear

�
Before the flies grow warm
I drink the sun in careful whispers
The bubble of my future
a modicum of ages
braided neatly through the weave of time
�
Birds and planes and freeway murmur
blend with the soundscape to switch places
their moments divesting reality
as easily as shedding clothes
for lovers making out after a fight
�
But it's the dreaming beast
naked as a question mark
which rules my chaos
its voice whimpering loudest
over a jumble of secrets
floated by an invisible orchestra
intent on bleeding notes to no-one
long after the audience has died
�
And the day my soul
rushes at the sky
greedy to rediscover
the sound of forgotten wings
I wonder will there still be time
for an encore to life
or is there only silence painted on a stone
haunting the world when destiny crumbles
to snuff out dreams
as they tumble to dust
in the beat of a graceless fall