cusp

.

one of those days
when dark comes in pieces
and nobody knows the color
of the sky. the sulfur scent
of silence and rain that isn’t
ripe enough to fall. the cold
blue of flame at the center
of the candle, waiting
to be
-come
the smoke signals
left hanging around like gray
ghosts with nowhere else to
go. the held breath. the
envelope half open. the
moment before you
remember what you wish
you didn’t know.

 

.

.
prompted by poetic asides.

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6 Responses to cusp

  1. clustered sky says:

    You are a sharp cookie. And this is gorgeous.

    • clustered sky says:

      I have always been an astrology junkie, so I really love the way the title flows into the first line: cu(s)p one of those days.

  2. Candy says:

    so many vivid moments of change. well done.

  3. “sulfur scent of silence” what great alliteration and description. I can smell that rain just on the cusp.
    That last line really packs a punch – there is SO much I wish I didn’t know, esp. in this age of Facebook 🙂

  4. Susan says:

    I’ll hold that moment on the cusp precious, precious–a respite of sorts, though all of the signs (including the smoke signals) are already there. I’m sure the moment of remembering will also bring the rain.

  5. Kir Piccini says:

    sigh.
    Just love this one.

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