hallaig
09-08-2011, 05:04 AM
Summer’s End
Rain sparks on my phone,
little embers I imagine fizz and die
on the screen, and all roads are shut,
all channels of communication gone,
the only shift is weather tightening.
Where is happiness? I do not have its number,
though I have examples: I am drawn
to the serenity of great art, and the dresses
are good, I could quizzically smile
while a spaniel snaps at my ankles;
then there is the unhinged joy of a Greek vase,
I can be drunk in charge of a nymph,
but it seems mostly another place for me,
lodged in the half way, the gap
between the canvas and the smile,
between the bacchanal and the nymph.
Books march to conclusions, this road,
life too I suppose. In the meantime
look, an imperceptible trembling,
my orbit, below this bruised sky.
Rain sparks on my phone,
little embers I imagine fizz and die
on the screen, and all roads are shut,
all channels of communication gone,
the only shift is weather tightening.
Where is happiness? I do not have its number,
though I have examples: I am drawn
to the serenity of great art, and the dresses
are good, I could quizzically smile
while a spaniel snaps at my ankles;
then there is the unhinged joy of a Greek vase,
I can be drunk in charge of a nymph,
but it seems mostly another place for me,
lodged in the half way, the gap
between the canvas and the smile,
between the bacchanal and the nymph.
Books march to conclusions, this road,
life too I suppose. In the meantime
look, an imperceptible trembling,
my orbit, below this bruised sky.