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