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Martha
Terrence
The Mad Hatter
Manifest Destiny

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00:57

the midnight ghost

trailing

through the streets

searching for a dream tucked behind the locked doors of Victorian mansions

nothing quite like fireflies

here by the river

i should dip my toes into the receding water

watching

the liquid coat my calves with a thin layer of desperation

 

but i am not like the water

i have yet to ebb or flow

i am not fickle, i don’t dance between words,

or play with the hearts of strangers for sport

time dangles you out a window

it’s only a matter of time until it lets go

 

the brief tears i wasn’t meant to see

i know there’s pain, i can feel his betrayal in your hands

and you smile to hide it

work to hide it

seek a new kind of validation to hide it

but you don’t realise that, on the other side of the river

checking your phone

you wait while i wander

 

i brush off the desperate drops still clinging to my legs

i’m here for now, catch me while you can

for when the night ends i may not be here come morn

Momentary

just for a moment

we could coexist

two passing bodies

in time and space

Night Mime

you clamber into bed

wearing the silk pyjamas i ironed

with a gentle yawn and a softened smile

you forgot to shave today

my kiss on your cheek is brief

yet loving

and a blush rises

that makes my lips meet yours

we part and dive

side by side

into novels and books of poetry

reading in silent warmth

until one of us finds something beautiful

in the words or turn of phrase

which we say aloud

to share its majesty

i find these lines

in a book i bought long ago and never read

"once the storm of youth is past

without lyre —"

but i turn to meet the glint of your eye

that gave me so much pleasure the moment before

to see you have disappeared

another imagining of my mind

Wonderful Distraction

the photographer isn’t ready to take my picture

and has since forgotten to change the film

because her wife called her up on the phone

saying they’re going to have a baby girl.

First Light

what language is able to                                            permeate

the senseless               form of motion

                                    i glimpse at the dawn

streaming onto your bare legs

                                                                        covered by the sheets                         dreaming

            softly of                                   constellations

                                                            teach me your             mind

            show me                      your world

clasped and                 settled                                                             into each other’s

shape                                       natural            , effortless

                                                                                    sharing secret smiles.

Last Call

tightly held, his fingertips danced fleetingly

across my cheek, sailing through my blonde waves,

i inhaled his gasps amidst electronic fireflies

 

the city exudes revelation – blooming

with phosphorescent roses whose vines creep

upon these two unsuspecting bodies

 

who are lost within the thoughts of one another

the roundel hums eager for the midnight train

that runs unseen in sublime subterranean slumber

 

beautiful silence seeps between the two lonely figures

at the corner of a hidden street away from the world

where their presence elevates reality into clarity

 

there is no tension in his arms, only warmth

the train arrives and they part

©2018 by Frederick Zennor

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