Saturday, July 28, 2007

Hourglass

"I have to go", you say,
and a trickle of sand

falls from the ceiling,
a soft snake slithering

its way across the floor.
By the time you leave

your footsteps are muffled
and make no sound -

a silence of heartbeats
and dust winnowed light.

Your feet sink a little
as you walk toward the door.

Afterwards, I lock the windows,
gather fistfuls of touch

to let slip through my hands.
Sheets of sand silt over

the shape of our love-making
and the dust rises

seeking breath like a mirage.
Soon the room shall be filled,

buried, the desert
of your going contained

within four walls;
only my eyes shall remain,

awake but unseeing,
like shells left over

from a long-ago sea.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

"a silence of heartbeats..
..gather fistfuls of touch"

Liked it. Don't know why, but I liked it. Nice!

~N.

Anonymous said...

Oh, I meant that for the whole poem, not just for those two lines.

~N.

Kronoskraor said...

me loved it.

"and the dust rises
seeking breath like a mirage."

"only my eyes shall remain,
awake but unseeing,
like shells left over
from a long-ago sea."

tragically beautiful.

KUBLA KHAN said...

Whilst random reading, found your poem.
first rate and well written. the single emotion is well described, the moment caught somehow.
A fine poem.

Soundbyte_King said...

I predict a long eulogy coming up.

Anonymous said...

wistful and tragic...beautifully written
~babitha

Falstaff said...

N: Thanks. Liking something without knowing why is the best kind of appreciation there is.

kronoskraor: Thanks.

kubla khan: Thanks. Maybe I should try this random reading thing myself sometime.

soundbyte_king: You were right, of course. See above.

babitha: Thanks