8.01.2013

the deep grey swoon

The deep grey swoon
came out of the blue
Or did it?
Not quite himself today
I’d thought
A strange day for me
all in all
hemmed in and snagged
A faint ray of my mother
and then
hiding behind the sun
a hint of
Melancholia

He stood in the grass
in the shade of the cottage
waiting
it seemed
to take his next step
His gaze fixed at the sky
mouth agape
feverish cheeks
the naked blanched lips
of a mannequin
and those eyes I can't ever seem to
recognize or
forget

We watched
and waited
until it was sure
the seizure
and though he remained
still as a stone
Daddy plucked him like a fallen branch
and carried him
up the steps
inside
to the green couch ...
this gone
boy

Six thirty-four
I said
and he gulped
and gasped
pale as an agate
or a shard of frosted sea glass
sinking into sand
and we called to him
beckoned him back
our most 
splendid boy
from the deep grey
swoon

2 comments:

  1. That you can create beauty out of such pain and sorrow and desolation is a testament to what it means to be alive.

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