exiles child

Poems

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Mikels Skele

There,
Just off center,
That place is well known,
A point for which
All numbers
Have been recorded,

Except those
Pertaining to the heart.

“It’s a question of scale.
The same structure,
The same light, dazzles
Our eyes. What part is home,
We decide.”

Said the flea,
To the stork.

There is a heaven where
Storks clean their wings
And keep the earth
Clear of all that crawls
And stings

The light there
Is unbearably true

In twilights gone
Truth fades like some
Antique paint, unsuited
To the impatient light
We deal with nowadays.

Still, a window
Is a window.

I remember
Your summer dress
Billowing fragrances
Of untold yearning
Long into the night

These flowers, too,
Have long since passed.