amethysts and grave stones

This poem was first published in issue 4 of Poe Little Thing.

 

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Ours was the sunrise, you said

as I lay in some hotel

looking over this city where children screamed

though tell me, has it changed?

 

Forever we'll have this light

though your clothes are white

your skin tan

eyes burned azure from this cruel summer

 

So I lit a cigarette

unable to rise

unable to talk without weeping

How can I tell you

 

It has ruined me

It haunts me

It broke me, and now I cannot leave

 

Ours was the sunrise years ago

on sand that twinkled with shells

I gave you a string of amethysts

and I laid stones upon your grave

and I lay five months, moveless, dying for you

 

This dead white ceiling

These old sheets, those trembles

How I prayed to avoid this place

Amethysts and grave stones I give you

still and deathlike in the sunrise