the metamorphosis is clear to see
vials of perfume softly springing to mind, see?
I remember you saying my name
over and over,
muttering in your sleep
or was this just part of my former fervent dream
wanting to be needed
what a permanent picture;
so dreary, so dreary,
terrible need.
many years spent travelling those
desperately craggy mountains
like that gypsy family
seeking solace
reverence within their country
protection, sweet notions,
extending their planning
with ease,
what does this mean to me? —
to see, be heard, be seen,
but not felt, no, not yet…
the only tactile response will be what is calling
to my mindset, leave pawing, clawing in the dust;
there’ll be absolutely none of that.
outrageously wise and perfectly contrite
I siiiing with my presence by yours, theirs,
myself by many a-side,
and warranted yet are the prismatic rays of light
bounding, bouncing forth, assign this nonsense,
what a fantastical blur,
this humdrum of renewed life.
but I cannot be, I will not be without reference,
I will dance in my seat without any form of sufferance,
I will gather the cause and realise
it’s enough, enough, to be wound, bound together
do not cut the cord
sever myself from the aspect that’s calling calling
upon my bare feet like leech-covered lilies and
vulnerable sticky pearls strung with the most
delicate of ease.
the world is yet to know my capabilities, my cause-and-effects,
lustrous be thy truest form of genuine connection,
soulful, calming and transparent temperament.
(10/12/21)
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
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