Words like feathers drifting out of darkness

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27/9/16 Two poems, one about losing something, the other about holding on. Gone/Scapula

Gone

 

Lost,

It's gone

It's a trifle...

It's precious!

It's nothing.

It's everything!

Frantic, you search

everywhere!

You look here...

...there...

...here again.

And again. 

And again.

But it's gone.

It's gone.

Lost.

It's a trifle...

It's precious!

It's nothing.

It's everything.

 

________

Scapula

 

I hold your scapula in my hand,

so neatly does it fit the curve of my palm.

nestled within my cupping hand

it feels like home to you, for me.

I cannot see your face,

but I can feel it, pressed against my chest,

or your cheek on my cheek.

You are so soft in the right places,

so firm in the right ways.

So steadfast...

Like yesterday's wind.

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