abandoned & Isolated
I cannot leave the island
why I do not know
it's like asking why water sometimes falls or
why the sky is always dark
why I only see black winged murkrows
that peck and stare with reverent terror
when I speak to them
(I don't know where I learned to speak
I don't know)
the brown of the earth is soft and wet
but there is none of the green I feel
should be there
budding, shooting
I remember light
only vaguely in a half formed memory of flash and flare
and warmth,
I think warmth is what makes them grow
then I wonder if
I need warmth?
When the sky-water does fall I watch it trickle and collect
into to a dark circle
like the new moon, I think
then wonder where I heard the name before
sometimes when I close my eyes I see strange things
pink petals and broad smiles and hot sand
and glaring lamps illuminating pages
in the night with gentle voices that give words
a shape
I wonder about the voices and the words and the tenderness that shapes them
On some days I think I see an outline in the sky
and a faint pinprick of shimmer that makes my heart soar and flutter
star, I think, and then
why can't I leave the island?