Saturday, 9 November 2013

Bubbles




I am standing here

looking at this photograph
of you the eve before you left
the sudden rattle in your chest

a fortnight ago

we were blowing soap bubbles
and you said, what’s a metaphor?
and I’m like, women!

so I’m here looking at this photograph of you
mists frozen on mountains behind you

thinking of the soil that’s already been flattened
wishing your mom didn’t call
every day –

and suddenly noticing

the grey around your eyes
the slight ruse of a smile

that you knew metaphors were bubbles






photo credit: christmasallaroundus

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