Understanding the shape
between your throat and collar
is exactly a true heart
to be kissed.
Understanding the nature
of words is to kiss them into shape.
Understanding the pretense.
In some other era the most Romantic thing
would be to let things wither beautifully.
Understanding one rainfall
growing inside another can make
a rainbow but only inside,
safe as houses.
Understanding nothing
is complete freedom.
Understanding the tilt of sleeping
is to reconcile breath with first memory.
Understanding your hands
are folded protectively only because
they are so agile and full of nothing,
so keen to touch my mouth.
Understanding courtly love
as archetypal memory
something to write essays about
over and over
like yearning caught in clouds of words.
Understanding the faces I see
are not nearly as beautiful as the faces they conceal.
Understanding eleven minutes past
is not a psychic message
just something you can train yourself
to recognise in crisis or temptation.
Understanding if you peel open a closed flower bud
it really can’t do itself up again.
Understanding a moment like this -
as it drifts between inner rooms -
a lonely ghost.
Understanding time
is opening doors and windows
in every place you’ve ever been
just to let in a little wavering light,
the chance memory,
an echo of your future self.
By Nevering
ROO | DARRYL BELL | PHOTOGRAPHY | ALEVELS | MUSIC
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