Moonlight of heart’s past

by Harry

Posted to Poetry on 2002-07-04 08:39:00

Her smile splashed along the landscape against things unseen but already done. And confused glances of far off places looking to become homes. nightmarish animals with teeth like knives Leave their mark on Old Oak Trees planted many-a-year- ago. Now stopping sound against her moonlight, her simple moonlight- distraught-pale- forlorn cheeks, damped with saltwater from things like us, more unseen, more … just more . And with dreams so far away from shores and oceans of mast complexion, complication, roads, tangible concepts of reality and her mother’s sister. And slashed back to reality with a flooding gate, and the gates yet past, and the slow ring, and slow tone, and pale complexion on your face, and pale lips to open your mouth, and my mouth, and completely gone.

From behind the moon, and too the stars and travels unlikely, forlorn canopy of the rainforest night of midsummer’s humid heat. Forgotten winter’s noon, and behind the tree sat like sailors watching for land. But land we found, but over population we sought. And now, years beyond my recolention of times more told than lived, the music lowers in the background and I sit- hands cross- like poems before and watch the sun rise its face to light the stain-glass world laid before me. But we don’t tell anyone, because I haven’t seen you for moments. Recounting moment by moment in utter ecstasy, laying alone.

Her eyes slashed against my chest in bare nightfall. And I realize that night has come to quick because a second ago it was day and we were blissfully laying, yet the night changes all. And a last call for 4 cars ahead that I didn’t hear, again because I was gone, again because it was night. And the broken glass lay next to your broken heart and you find your way to the door. Again because I was gone, again because It was night.
And finally when worst comes to worst and water leads to sand and when comma’s don’t lead into anything anymore, that’s when its ok. That’s when lonely mountains join the heavens.

And now words forgotten in twilight. Moonlight. Her light. and an ending riff, for her ending song in the last bit of existence we’ll have the harp play. Something to be remembered by he said, He always said that. We don’t remember much else. How ironic. For sweet words fall off sweet tongue, not by moonlight, but rather in moonlight.