harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
i see, in a small horror, the puffiness of your cheeks, your bones seem lost in your face and a new clinging of your t-shirt around your waist appeared -- did you notice it too?
in those photos i missed the light of your jaw and your eyes (those blessed blues; ) this strange foreign heaviness of you seeming, when i couldn't even bring myself to chew
the morsels on my plate -- do you see it too? my shoulders glowing like the shard was last night.
and it was only a flight of birds in my head screaming why eat when they (and i) are dying the dead do not need food -- and my hands shook holding my knife and fork -- i could not do it i could not do it --
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(29/10/2017) apologies for my erratic poems today.
