Convolvulus Flowers

I start backwards

the last decade

pale blue flowers

groping vine fingers

clinging to masonry

above: the sky

 

Lower down

tangled confusion

weed and thorn

which way and that

pain of pricked fingers

quick blood, starts and stops

 

Underneath

some blackened earth denotes

the place where graves

mother, father, first love

overgrown with cacti

stained and rain-washed

carved inscriptions, silent now

in the wind of passing years

 

To sleep, perhaps to dream

the poet said – these words

this pen, like fragile blue flowers

groping above a wall

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© Johnmichael Simon

2013

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