Poetry

...Those words sprang out
Like bubbled laughter with no place to burst

When walking did we ask for you?

Racing back to eat our souvlaki
Selfishly you mocked our footfalls
With murmurings.

We have no pencil, thieving ghost!

Your precious tale tongue
bleeding and drying,
drifts into silence.
And only we scream.

New islands wait, close-gripped by fauna.
We, bronzed by the dream-sparking sky
trim ourselves rugged
sailing, for not some
bookstruck butterfly dream
flat as the ten pincakes of Pan
but for a scene,
sharp as a marble Tenet
tagging zig-zag zorro to meet all comers
in the place where we stand
and deliver.