After the Gloam

Weird Poetry

I felt your hand cupping the curve of my shoulder

And your kiss ghosting the crinkle on my brow

As I paced the frosted glistening ground

After the moon-stroked gloam

Of a late autumn Sunday morning.

I felt those pangs in my chest —

The ones that stop my breath,

And only let pass the ones that stab my lungs with exclamation points —

But I found sweeter air in the space

Where I could divine your form.

So I stepped into

It (your glorious Aether)

And gulped and gulped at the air until I could taste you in every pore of my earthbound body.

Sometimes to find you

All I have to do is step outside

Into the time

After the gloam

When the sun is snuggled up behind a duvet of woozy yellow haze,

And the trees silhouette the sky behind and beyond them.

Then I can feel your cupped hand on my curved shoulder

And your lips smiling into my crinkled (now smoother) brow.




*** Well… Sweet Ch… ***

*** Shut the fuck up, Waldorf or Statler or whoever you are. Keep your quips to yourself. I don’t need any more self-flagellation today. I just want the peace of the gloaming and an angel. ***

*** Photo cred: Me ***

2 thoughts on “After the Gloam

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your 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

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.