Mike Snape – Sentences II
Tentatively we touch in the darkened room.
Crumpled layers of clothes, floating
where they fell; serenely now the shells
have burst above their heads.
In the grey light under the curtains
I observe somnolently the fan of petals
upon the pillow, eyes drifting languidly
like lily pads on a still pond.
The very face of time, for now,
is blank: seconds merge, collect
and drop in bursts of minutes.
Ripples across a sheet of glass.
Our mummers waft mist-like around
the height of the bed, settling
irregularly on our upturned
faces. At once they are forgotten,
only their etched impressions,
pale vapour trails,
In the silence there is but
the collision of clouds
and shivers, as you gently trace
tribal designs upon my hip.
- Posted in: Poetry