April 15th, 2015

by James Kelly Quigley

a watercolor stream,
a purling light.
I wash through
an ocean of raw.
mists gather and are
unmade, repeat
a day sinks down the
dripping drain,
again again.
the stars tip over
and blaze their
signatures through
the inky world, then
all plunges into a
sable jar, a dark empty
my bones are simply it.
they are yours and mine.
I see the hem of an unsewn dress,
the windows of an unbuilt home.
they are refracting in the blackness.
a deep, swelling current
surges through the chasmic
hall of night and
floods each room.
something is happening.
a tunneling. stretch.
the skyless void unfurls.
daybreak on a woman
torn apart. in her arms, at
long last, a screaming drop of life.


Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s