I do not pray
but if I prayed
I would pray for you
to see the blood of the children
in your dreams
to see the blood of the children
on your hands
to see the blood of the children
wherever you may be
and wherever you may go
I do not pray
but if I prayed
truth or consequences
railway cherries or apple leaves
choices always choices
I think of you at all the wrong times
in all the wrong places
at all the times and in all the places
I should be thinking of something or somebody other
your face is there
your eyes
your smile
I think of you at all the wrong times
Strawberry moon. Wolf moon. Honey moon.
The moon I gazed at, lightly holding your hand,
the dry grass itching through thin cotton.
Dragon moon. Splinter moon. Cherry moon.
The moon you stared at, disentangling your fingers,
the dew beginning to dampen our faces.
Cloud moon. Blood moon. Tearful moon.
The moon we looked beyond, our hands now distant as time and tide
The clouds beginning translucent the sky.
The moon goodbye. The farewell moon.
The moon of a thousand last last looks.
The moon you can see, perhaps you can see now
The moon that is forever ours.
I said
you can sleep in my arms
safe
and I will be vigilant
You were asleep in my arms
when
they kicked down the door to take me away
my arms are empty
in the empty room
I hope you remember sleeping
safe
I hope you remember sleeping
I miss you like flame
I miss you like breathing
I miss you like ever before
I am a bull in the year of the pig
Heavier than daylight and solid on rock
They may call me Petros.
Calves of bronze and heels of granite
Untouched by flames from the molten core
They call me Petros.
There is no trace of my future becoming
There will be only footmarks in the sea-washed sand
But – and but – I am Petros.
yesterday bright clothes in the summertime I cried
at the wedding of slightly known people found joy
it was her parents we knew
her parents our friends
in the church close thick heat
children playfully running
babies are crying for milk or for comfort
as he walks through the door the bride’s father is ready to burst
happy for him and for her and for hundreds
for hours we eat and we drink and we dance and we talk and we talk for hours
today dark sky dark clothes
thin rain falling
sudden sombre faces in shade
same people same church
same people in church
a deeper silence a heavier air
voices older
voices quieter
yet stronger in prayer
we say goodbye and god be with you
we say goodbye and god be with us
we say goodbye and god please help us
we say goodbye forever
It was not your ghost, of course not,
you have not passed.
But the thought of you, the spirit of you,
the word you had given to be here.
From the empty bed, pillow unpressed,
to the empty cup, no coffee in the kitchen air,
the space where you should have been,
the emptiness of your promise is my companion.
Their coordination held me,
always together, wingtip to wing, parallels and curves.
Then though
it was one swift and its shadow.
simonsalento 