All posts tagged: dverspoets

Silver Street

The cobbles run uneven here, sloped and sinking slowly like a old man finally easing, breathing out and falling into the cushions of an armchair. When the rain comes quick and sudden, the street darkens to pitch and the rivers between the stones shimmer with stars thrown from shop windows, as the street lamps lean in closer and watch you skim across the water always too quick for me to save the picture.

Somewhere Between The Spoons

I found the words I was looking for tucked away inside the attic, between the nineteen-twenties bicycle pump that might one day come in handy and the vinyls we’d inherited without anything to play them on.   I peeled them from their hiding place, shook the dust loose to gain a better look. Decided to keep them for a rainy day, and pressed their petals between the pages of yet another notebook.   When the freezer broke poems of you came flooding free. I didn’t know that was where I’d stored them. Perhaps I’d been trying, much like always, to keep them from going bad.   Sun-baked and burnt, stories of another world crawled across the decking like ants in neat lines of black type, each bearing the weight of a word count five times their size.   Halfway through the washing was the character I’d been waiting for. Curled inside the flannel, I almost felt guilty for shaking her free when her elbows clacked against her knees all limbs and adventures tangled up as …