White Star

Akin a cageless mockingbird
after she bathes she sings
to a room full of reminders
where our horizon met its end and
an endless grey sky now begins;

You who loved as a verb
you who loved until it hurt
How can I not think of you
as I hold your eponymous pen
and feel the gravity
of her black skinned,
white starred curves.

© D. Archer May 2012

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3 thoughts on “White Star

  1. so finely packed, like an almond in its shell, that you can’t help pinch between thumb and forefinger when you crack it open – there’s always that pinch, no matter how skillful – but I’ve got to have that almond.

  2. “and feel the gravity
    of her black skinned,
    white starred curves.”

    A mysterious few lines. I like the absence of color imagery in this poem: a true representation of what it feels like when it’s just the writer with a pen vs. the page. Well done, David!

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