Monday, 3 April 2017

The Threshold of Loss

The Threshold of Loss
(day 3 of #NaPoWriMo challenge)

The door hinges creak, the tap drips and drips.
I hear these voices in soft moments as they pass.

The crows, live wires. Another perplexed wasp.
A space in my ear canal distorts as it reopens.

Dead music starts singing a soliloquy to lost love.
This is the mix-tape death plays now, on repeat.

- The rasp of a tongue over cigarette paper.
- Laughter that thrums inside skirting boards.
- Morrissey on helium, plucked like a kite.

- Hamsters in attics clattering dead mother’s wigs.
- Telescopes tuned to the waltz of a waning moon.
- Baby pigeons on a balcony pizzicato-ed  by gulls.

- The ghost of ‘True Blue’ that still haunts the landing.
- The shriek of a key as it turns into this unloosening.
- The way footsteps can make an orphan of a house.

4 comments:

  1. Ooo....loved that last line especially!

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  2. Gorgeous, gorgeous images here. "the mix-tape death plays now, on repeat" say it all.

    Congratulations on today's feature!

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  3. it's simply alive with dead things

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  4. fantastic. and congratulations - well deserved ~

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