Faded Marks

Endemic scars
Berate your eyelids soundless sigh
Ingrained speech marks
A knife blade drawn through every line

Your clouded earth spun bright lies round our son
And-yet-these light schemes smothered the heir from our lungs

Contorted smile
A fix of pleasure flecked with bile
A rough joyride
Reclined seats, blind to life

I hear your voice, it’s cigarettes and tears
I fear you choice regrets my best-loved years

I burnt my albums of you
Etched onto a disk
of many hues

A trip through slick petrol licks
Faded marks re-colour you

I sleep in dreams you had
A slump sensationalised
And wake to apertures
Falling from your Kodak eyes

© Owen Emmerson & Michael Whitehead (2013)


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