Smear out the last star.
No lights from the islands
Or hills. In the great square
The prolonged vowel of silence
Makes itself plainly heard
Round the ghost of a headland
Clouds, leaves, shreds of bird
Eddy, hindering the wind.

No vigils left to keep.
No enemies left to slaughter.
The rough roofs of the slopes,
Loosely thatched with splayed water,
Only shelter microliths and fossils.
Unwatched, the rainbows build
On the architraves of hills.
No wounds left to be healed.

Nobody left to be beautiful.
No polyp admiral to sip
Blood and whiskey from a skull
While fingering his warships.
Terrible relics, by tiderace
Untouched, the stromalites breathe.
Bubbles plop on the surface,
Disturbing the balance of death.

No sound would be heard if
So much silence was not heard.
Clouds scuff like sheep on the cliff.
The echoes of stones are restored.
No longer any foreshore
Or any abyss, this
World only held together
By its variety of absences.

7 thoughts on “Absences

  1. You paint a vivid picture with this poem…I am very moved by your words. I will take a look around because it seems I will like it here. Thank you for stopping by my home…I hope you find Something that speaks to your heart. Blessitude

    1. Lorrie;

      Thank you for the follow. Your blog is such a wonderful mix. I like your energy and the message that you are conveying through your blog! Look forward to more posts! Yes, glad our paths have crossed.



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