i’m going to need you
on a specific date in your far future
but the distance will stretch its arms
and yawn
as if my electromagnetic pulse
disabled communication systems –
the city turned quickly country
the wind, the stars, the quiet sound
of dead batteries and black phones
resonating like a wood house
painted actually black
i’m going to need a living car to reach you
i’m going to need to tell you
the old words
dark loom
stuck spinning out,
mind’s a little lady
of shalott locked up towerways
for days
haunted
like a wet vault
rusting underground, like
three caws from individual
ravens
What of the sailor doomed
On doldrum seas? Is she
The lesser captain who
Wills the Wind Within gust
When the wind wills ill hush?
Her quiet fight at night,
One of calculation,
Many bearing-takings,
Bad nightly monologues,
And her dazed will to row
Home: no tempest-taming.
“Yet, yet,” slaps the water
Under-oar, and the cold
Stars above grin like cons
Cheating death again and
Forever, hallelu
dark hangs
like chandeliers
unlit, still as a stare,
cased in the pitch of this moment
dark grows
geodes
never-glitter in the pitch black
helplessness of the dark
(((try as light might)))
dark rule
Four twins
Intersect at
The black autumn crossroads
Each shows the other a dead phone
Brooms wait
tracer(s):
light speck(s): firefly
train(s) of mote ‘cross the bed-
spread(s): a time-sliced world of stave(s) and
barline(s)
ery of mist
eyrie of mystery
of mysteries of
Lucent
Morning – no edge
Taken off the limit
Of anything yet – bright, pink, peach
Light-warmth
uncalmed
psychic titan,
cortices roiling hot
burning up borrowed confidence
stomping
demon
(psychic tapeworm
(clipping carrion wyrm
(not to be requires fatal dark
(device))))
Ashley Lily Scarlett 2015
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