Mayhem

I dipped into the past today
and sailed a piece of it away

Salt is sweet and the sea is free
and locked by land the same as me

Every child out having fun
can hold a candle to the sun

Light breathes in, days pull up shorter
herons ink their plot of water

Sometimes it’s the stove, sometimes the storm
confirms my heart is home and warm

If they kept being true, the things we meant
we’d be thin soup, puddle-dull, stagnant

They lie through their eyes, their tongues, their teeth
who cannot stomach what lies beneath

Dawn and dusk knit day and night
into a cape of salmon light

Before it collapses into foam
a wave is an emperor on a jade throne

You add me up to what I am
and what we are, venn diagrammed

One and two, and two and three
and so on for eternity

There is none so deaf and blind
as he or she the song can’t find

I stopped the draught and deja vu
it found another crack to come through

When I try with all my might to care
it doesn’t get me anywhere

Well make me up and drag me down
a hero tumbles like a clown

I want to know how a flower knows
it’s time to open and time to close

Enlightenment is for the larks
Spiders work their web in the dark

Mayhem and metamorphosis
is what the old gods promised us

Intimate distance grows at the sign
for Windwhistle Farm and mulled wine

The rocks in my head are tumbling to
the solar system’s anti-clockwise view

A crow caught in the string of a kite
has only one fighter in the fight

Consider the little that you know
then plump for where the snowmen go

Pecking at grain in a frozen bowl
a winter sparrow resolves my soul

Living at the edge of one’s self
is better than living on the shelf

The reed beds on the levels sigh
when starlings murmurate the sky

He took my hand and opened my yes
into stars and quietness

Nothing special happened when
nothing special happened again

Why are the mice not springing the trap
why is the road all over the map

A wink, a hat-tip or a nod
is all you need to give a god

Part of the pleasure lies in how
the time I dragged is flying now

Between the weather-vane and the ark
a dove will die, a day go dark

Here is the line I lay my heart in
the end of the road is the start of the garden

Cally Conan-Davies

Cally Conan-Davies

Cally Conan-Davies is a writer who lives by the sea.
Cally Conan-Davies

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Author: Cally Conan-Davies

Cally Conan-Davies is a writer who lives by the sea.