our solitude

rub the dark

spot of her

solitude, her

ribbed

feathers                               down

 

..                                             give,

the water here                  is

 

mottled, spun

by the late sun,                 high

clouds & gulls

 

heading out.

 

& still                                     we’re alone

even when I

sanctify these

gentle folds

beneath the                       cold heavens.

 

2 thoughts on “our solitude

  1. Love the gravity of this, Marco, the ‘dark spot / of her solitude’, the typography with that ‘..’ speaking something unspeakable, the ‘even when’ of the third stanza and its tension of what hangs each side of it.

Leave a Reply