words in a day

strange,

funny,

weird how

russet the dawn came

on my neck and the life play

in the

rise of day

as eyes walk the

curving road, macadam

rush, and standing

to turn and see its

stretch like sable

strand, red and

pink and angry, salmon strain,

post-weekend with no

vapour trails across

its edge – eye did not

have the words

to say it, throne it,

and was sad ... glad

they do the job, in the steely eye

of mid-day,

those two, who replace me,

me now ... fill in ...

the aching gap, the silences,

now that I have sagged and sunk, a leather sack

dropping down to the water

of old, sleek well,

known well,

brick slime, and ...

and their words to each

interest and applying

are so crisp, where

mine were syrup and

glue, seasoning,

so easing of the pain

that it was added to

A people-pleaser, are you?

So, what does that

and do you know? Is it favours

of the self, sinew and ... heart even?

Me? I needed words,

connected, inter-reacting,

not clipped scraps, as I passed my fingers along the icy rim of void.