Category: Sonnets (page 7 of 8)

Hi, it’s me. Really, it was great to see you
again. Our time together is always brief, I
know, but at least this time I made time to
sit back and think. Enjoy myself. Indulge in
beers and long walks on the beach. I liked
those moments we had alone together. Sunsets
yes, legions now, catalogued by my no-longer
functioning camera. Duty-free Jenever and no
tears at Schipol, our final conversation one
gigantic “O”. The way histories can collide,
intersecting with sunshine, cloud and brine.
Vast as magnetic fields, thin turbine-blades.
Thanks once again for everything you did that
day. Let’s catch up again soon. Doei doei!

It’s just the future. We can’t hear it
here. A midnight rain, detected by our
moon-white arms. Slow dances around a
secret pole, a dangerous dip in a sea.
That’s all it is. It’s less than seven.
My playlists, haunted by the aromas of
Hoogvliet. Stars to guide the airplane.
Gliding over the jet-black facilities,
night’s postcard curling at the edges.
Soporific navigation charts, a radio’s
tuned to easy. Headphones stolen from
another airline, useless here. Charity.
It’s just the future. Nothing happens
now. Desire hasn’t even been invented.

A soft freeway of bicycles propels me
through the fog. Following strings of
lozenge lights towards future’s mills
and runways, our departure’s earliest
signals barely warm. A fern’s puzzled
twist as the passageway elopes. Kudzu.
Jungle hums, for the planet’s relief.
Teams of tomorrow under bramble guns,
silk tissues and gauges. Blasted from
the womb of love, sorry letters. Once
upon the thyme they did roll together,
battened tears and whispered comfort.
The shape of secret pregnancies, leaf-
like in their shallow introductions.

Days since I spoke, muted trees. Patches
of light on my skin. The sun’s echoes. I
hide in parks, or kill time in shopping
aisles. All the good people here. Moved
along. Fixing at someone else’s address.
Wet hair at tram stops. An idea you had
for harnessing the air. I forget how it
was supposed to work. And your name? No
use denying it. That was mine, once. We
never did agree on the time or place for
such serious discussions. Just wanted to
be left alone. Well, here I am, happily.
The tyre-treads of hope have left their
marks on the road of my bitumen face.

Lying on a plane like lizards gasping for air.
These new territories toxic as liquid gold or
phantasms with no name. Down by a dusted
ferry terminal for yesterday’s new deliveries.†

File these hopes under miscellaneous cargo –
or send them to me, cash on delivery. Lovers
mingle with the lonely in a crowd. Bastilles
stormed or raided for supplies. Written on a

body – all of our previous dalliances. Dances
like layers of an onion or an old lemon skin.
Years of washing fears away. Becoming one.
Step away from breathing. Remember every

Caress. Every needle of pain & redemption.
A train arrives but it does not stop. Ignited.