Tag: distance

no grace in wanting

there is no grace
in true wanting –

it staggers,

and refuses
to be written –

its divinity locked
in the eyes

that yours decline
ever to meet

© Sarah Whiteley

out of time

we were, for a time,
each other’s clocks –
the tick-ticking of
our fingers apart,
counting the breaths
before between until –
until

2 AM yearning strikes,
hungry as bells on Sunday –
and we unwind, reset,
sweep the seconds
from our faces,
cheeks to shoulders
for a minute

how I swallowed
every moment,
even the ones

empty

of

you,

and sired a void
within the void

© Sarah Whiteley

that I was I

that I was I
and you were you
and want being
what it is –
shortening
the shortest
distance between
two selves –

with the brevity
of “yes”
we were quite
suddenly we
and with nothing
but combustion
in between

© Sarah Whiteley

returning

I have been gone
too long from here
from lulling grasses
rustling keen kisses
at the magnolia’s feet,
white petals bruised
to scent, sharp
and sudden as the flap
of a finch flushed
from beneath the boxwood

the watchful eye
of a sentinel moon
rises low and hangs heavy
between black branches
our absence has grown wide
and horizons have grown hazy
where will I find you again,
if not in crushed petals,
or clinging, freshly unearthed
to thready roots of rue

I bloom nonetheless
though something hesitant
shifts within and grows restless
tired all at once of waiting
for what is yet unreturned

© Sarah Whiteley

poppy-winged

if I could fold wings for words
of red-petaled poppies
and affix them gently with a pin
I would launch a fleet of these
to flit and twit as sparrows
and settle in your trees
and whispering arrange themselves
so that waking you will see
poppy-winged my heart
spell out the love
that sleeps in me

© Sarah Whiteley

letters to _____ – vi

you should hear then
how I would want
these last words
to be let loose
like jewel-green beetles
to race the hastening day
to scatter scuttling
this final evidence
to your distant ears
love, I rise asunder
each day that wakes
upon your absence
though I am ever
there beside you
for I cannot pull
your breath from mine
nor my love
from the hands
that rightly hold it

© Sarah Whiteley

elsewhere

this space
which you have never inhabited
holds you all the same
contains all the silent disquiet
of your absence
and the un-echoing never
of where you do not stand
the unwary word remains
and carries your voice just as if
just as if
I dwell within that shade of you
here where elsewhere is these walls,
these windows, this white room
elsewhere, where you
abidingly reside

© Sarah Whiteley