Zen O’Leary – Mind Bones
I trip on feathers and sibilant whispers
and the scratch of feet.
They have been with me everywhere,
these rock doves flown from ancient cliffs
to become city dwellers like ourselves,
feral souls in camouflage who walk
with measured and wary steps.
Glints of lavender wings tickle my eyes like
poems that live but the length of a breath
and never reach the page, or the memory
of a lover’s skin that is now touchable
only as words, as pen strokes, as piano notes
heard in distant rooms on dying afternoons.
Date: November 18, 2011
Categories: Zen O'Leary