Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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The dream of the sky vanished. A coin toss lost, it’s unwise to look back as the fog obscures the straight lines of our history into a confused monochrome tangle of deadwood. Dried and brittle, cracked and coated with the sins of Winter, it’s enough. The eyes have seen enough and search ahead because there’s a world in death losing to relentless gray behind. Soon even the totems will dissolve as if shipwrecks joining seabed. The overnight stay ten years to the day, the New Year’s of unexpiring lust, the sands of the empty beach caught in toes, the ribbon-cutting, the falling snow of last rites, the call of action, the busy sterility of his arrival. The joy and union. The look and laugh. The caress and curl. All the whispers of affection now without echo. Lost to the nature of a merciless season. Faded photographs, we wilt, lose definition and flake under the winds of new life, scattered to places far afield from where we’d taken root, strove together for the sky, and failed.


#poem #poetry #writing #writer #literary_imagery1 #poetry_addicts #poetic #poet #words #igpoetry #forest #woods #branches #winter #gray #death #sadness #trees #sky #clouds #fog (at The Rot)

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