ON THE HORIZON OF YOUR BONES​

​

the future waits impatiently     here

in a space of sonic seams 

and dream patchers

 

bodies move in perpetuity 

as magnetism stirs

the momentum of ritual resistance

 

we are summoned by a call

from the future                      here

tipping the pendulum

in a city of parallels

 

your sharp corners billowing 

bare faced in the tall sea glass

of vertical blue hopes

 

you are the colour of wet sand 

and hazel eyes

on this strip of concrete 

that never sleeps

 

we float alongside you

on rubber life rings

that never tire

from your century in orbit

on this patch of grass gold

 

it is always high tide

in the sea of reflections

 

we wake across the threshold 

against the grain of your brown bones

and green-yellow-blues

leaving half thoughts

on cinderblocks

and black bathroom doors

 

we never idle in the arrows

and wait 

in line by the cooler

like the water

a century in the making we are

 

your unwound clocks

arriving at the interlude