Quiet, Quiet MAG

October 12, 2012
By Spook BRONZE, Frome, Other
Spook BRONZE, Frome, Other
2 articles 0 photos 4 comments

The birds died the day you left.
They had their reasons, as you no doubt
had yours.
Because the sky broke.
Because it was mourning.
You tapped an apology from the tip of
your cigarette,
Turned, and walked away.
The ashes settled on the ground at my feet.

Snow-quiet, quiet,
The body of a cuckoo
Drops from the sky.
Upon impact with the ghost,
A final note, a softest –
Bones singing.
I hear it from my bedroom window

sing it back.

See? Do you see?
Cars screech. Disease. Lost
Pets scatter the gutters. Some life.
Memory's-sakes clutter my head
Because I do not wish to look forward.

See? Do you see? I see.
The light is shaking in some ways
You left it lilting
Quiet, quiet to the ground.
Your apology smoldered at my feet until
“I should have swept it dead, then and
there, before‚”
It burnt a hole.
Now falling feathers
Swirl, fill the air.



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