The Other Side of the World

Honestly, here’s the rub. There’s a reason my words are set to black, and it is this: they are surrounded by black in the reality as well.

I sit in the dark and let the inky opaque air deliver them to my fingers. And now my nights are pressed by other things.

By the shape of other bodies laid against mine like recently cooked clams. Moist, salty and cooling.

The shadowy scrape of half moon nails across my forearm in persistant request for milk, rather than prose.

There are still words there, gently clamouring for purchase in my wafting mind. 

But now, more than usual, they are left uncommited to real space.

Left instead to tumble back into night space.

Allo!

Spring is here, spoons are being consumed, posts of great import to follow – all when there are less people reading & shrieking over my shoulder as I type.

Apparently it’s beginning to sink in that I’m not alone anymore!