Synapse

Filigree of trace lines
nerve endings, optic fibres;
visions absorbed and re- absorbed
inverted commas, colons: semi -quavers
pink suns spinning in motionless heaven
sign behind the line that you have understood.

Invalid projections bounce from fine encounters
the witness takes a breath,
you hold out your hands again and again
offering love in thin disguises
serendipity formed from glass towers
trusting in the synapses,
figurines defying their cracked shelter.

Outside noise interjects…..
if you had known better you could have
caught the jet between us
turned it into gold for children’s entertainment.

Buffeting like trees
leaves snap shoulders
body screams from faded brake pads
lose of impulsion on early autumn days
Virgoan light humming straight-jacket of disorder,
I can see forever in the tree line, perspective dark as cancer
which no shame will dislodge.

We are true to our restrictions,
I enact your infidelities, you are loyal
like a well loved undergarment hugging my contours
clinging in an umbilicus of insistence
listening to the blood call; with it’s sugar, with it’s salt.

Life rides me again and again
demanding a clear pathway,
you coming later understood better
have caught sooner, the thread we’ve yet to own.

I have denied the notion,
denied three times
the possibility of a version
borne my thorns with masochistic pride
set you free to prophecy

to the unknown.

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