I couldn’t save you that day
when you fell from the sky.
Amongst aerial strings, you tore
between teeth lining and ephemera
like when we played as small children.
And all I asked for back was one second
of still to remain instead of strung
skin and wilting flowers tearing away
at happiness like thirty seconds of conversation
and twelve hours flying through slow-moving
flares, drawing away years, until all that
lagged behind was burning inside you,
a body worn like a solitary costume
left behind in a dress up box, somehow
forgotten about, sprung out suddenly
and shattering careful considerations
placed down by the foundations,
under ground and beside one another.
© – Christopher William Clark 2013. Click here to view more of Chris’s work or to contact him.
Image from Felicia Simion. Click here to view more of Felicia’s work or to contact her.