Monday, May 17, 2010
"Silver Linings (for Clare)"
I will let the clouds come. From horizons
they will glide, at first a white, then a grey
as they meet up, join in a panoply
that may ferry rain. They may well flatter
the skies from New Zealand to New South Wales,
decorating the satellite photos
as they pass silently over the lands
underneath, with watery breath bated.
But the clouds you see are the clouds I see,
perhaps, and will trap the sun's rays; it seems
a strange thing to say, there's silver lining,
but when clouds are heaviest, pressing down
and muttering thunder, the thought of you
cheers me up to no end, and I am glad.
"Firelight (for Clare)"
In the firelight of my childhood, when youth
was yet to be prized by me, evenings spent
before the burning ashes and the hearths
of reverie were not lost to my thought.
Now I remember them, and find it hard
to see in the ashes the same landscapes,
and wonder if it's poverty of thought,
or hardening of the mind's arteries.
I don't need to dream in firelight to see
you, nor do I need a bed of glowing
ashes. All that I need is the merest thought.
And like the ashes you will glow, brighter
than the copper sun at sunset, winter
days, when the wood is brought out, piled up, lit.
"Tinnitus (for Clare)"
I have been thinking of you in quiet
moments, when the winds of the world are thin
hissings in sound-ravaged ears. I would wake
out of a dream of being cisgender
and adoring just you, with quietness
and a sense of peace, and I would hear this
noise, and I would think of you then, and I
feel the soft seep of endorphins within.
You are never really far from my mind,
just as the hissing and whistling never
really fades, just sinks under. Sometimes I
forget that I hear them, unlike thinking
of you: too many good things exist, and
each reminds me, in its own way, of you.
- Phillip A. Ellis 2010
Posted by Justin Lowe at 1:20 pm