Seven hours on low (a poem)

Saturday afternoon, drawing details from time and place…

1
That Moment
sits within the frame, deep purple
folding back upon itself

The arched eyebrow
of orange August gone down
takes her away (again)
rendering blue notes illegible

This morning I wake up
not remembering what brought me here
but keenly aware of the work to be done

2
I don’t know what I think of it now
every thought feels incomplete
every pause a complete breakdown
every moment doing anything wasted
every excuse a fabrication

Because I remember what brought me here

(5 October 2019)

 


 

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