Pieran

Dull dry weather
But how can the hearth feel placid?
It’s not me, I swear
I collect my strongest defences to keep it still
but it just keeps on jumping
fidgeting
twiddling
jiggling
until
I turn to you
and the lyrics of your green irises
the melody of the caress you give to your elbow
it is the music
the wrenching music
that serenely drowns me into
this melancholic day.

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