September Lament; Mist and Blackberry

September Lament; Mist and Blackberry

Shoulders
clenched, fingers twitching -
pecking sequential
letters for a client; the last
of July's poison seeps
from his sinews
to the warring sound
of Didgeridoo and Duduk,
of wind and rain.

A head snaps
back, focus shifting
from the wrist held in the hand
gliding across a keyboard
to a sweet perfume

suddenly
in the air.

A perfume
impossible; perfume
which can, should, not
be smelled - not here, not
now, never really there -
it has gone forever.

Stepping to a door, inhaling
deep
of nicotine and wood smoke -
the impossible blackberry perfume
of the vanished.

A chill damp felt in bone
and mind, not skin, weighs heavy
on vapors slipping up the hill
through trees and Bones sighs softly
remembering a dream; remembering
the light which has faded.

Speakers suddenly screaming "take
my hand, I'm sinking,
I'm reaching out for you
in my dying dream...."

Nothing
to do but whisper a fading love
to the memory and return
to the bone searing drudgery
of one more silent

day

and the whims
of clients...

_{(09/23/2010 @ 16:52)}