By Laura Eklund
so blue, fading at my wrist
the shadowing tide standing forth
straining with no exception.
His eyes pull at his waist
rising above the ocean
squashed to molecules that rule the cellular sun
solitude important only where he stands.
Let’s hide out beneath the world
the rest of the light shaven in husks.
His face is beyond memory and literal movement
the hum of an orange forgotten like grapes.
I want to become emptiness,
so I can live inside
the tissue that imports a compass
helping me to fly.
His eyes come very hard
believing where time has crossed
I did not know him when I wept.
I only imagined blue houses
ingrained and faded without walls.
About the poet:
Laura Eklund is an artist and poet. She lives and works in Olive Hill, KY, with the poet George Eklund, and has four children with him, Waylon, Thomas, Fiona, and Marina. Laura also paints. Her favorite things to do include reading and writing poetry and spending time with my family.
Laura’s works have appeared in many journals including ABZ, Black Warrior Review, Southern Women’s Review, Pegasus, and Slipstream. And her poetry collection, Song of Lisbon, came out recently from Wind Publications. More can be found out about Laura at www.lauraeklund.org or she can be followed on Facebook at The Art of Laura Eklund.