This is left

A rock on the ledge painted white

 

 

A Bag

Filled with useless objects of connection

 

A Toy Truck

Rusting in forgotten motion of play

 

A Gilded Belt

Hugging tightly the last vestiges of hope

 

 

Love Pulling

So close yet so far into deafness
of resolution’s purpose, against purpose itself

 

 

Oh what are the ways, of the way you have given up on

 

 

A Language

Yet to be spoken but is speaking
so clearly without words, against clarity itself

 

A Scarf

Pulled from the head of a wearer
lost somewhere in the desert defining lass itself

 

 

Love Pulling

Into and from an abyss or an abbey
carrying a spirit of light, against light itself

 

This is left

A poster on a pole in a blizzard of noise

 

 

 

A Bottle

Half emptied of the half filled reason of life
drunk in uncertainty with intention, against intention itself

 

 

A Mast

Naked in the twilight shimmering gold
holding forth in wind against holding itself

 

 

A Yellow Dress

Rumbled in the corner of a store where
nothing is bought, nothing sold, nothingness itself

 

 

A Suitcase

Carefully packed and abandoned
on the steps of some platform destined for obscurity, against obscurity itself

 

 

A Loudspeaker

Amplifying hope, or a warning
blaring ceaselessly against cessation itself

 

 

 

Love Pulling

Beyond the false need of definition
or explanation, love itself against love