Everyday Sounds

There are noises here abounding
Though they exist barely noticed,
A closing of a drawer, a toilet

Somewhere flushes,
Humming from electric fans
Sends taut air spinning through

Summer, your tartan skirt
And tattooed hand snapping
My wishbones, like keys

To my uncontrolled blushes.
Tap water running,
Meditations overflowing.

A murmuration of sunbathers,
Suncream bottle lids opening,
Clasps on shoulders undone.

Garden parties swallowed.
Undeciphered patterns and vacations,
Wheatfields over the fence

With seventeen crop circles.
All these vibrations from life evolving,
All these times I’ve been revolving.

Yet there is no sound disguising
These memories are no longer
Moments, but instead a silence.

I Sometimes Feel Your Touch Still

A vacuum droned in the distance,
Unending summer pain,
You were bathing in sunlight,
I was the last to complain.

I wondered how we arrived here,
Eyes white as Siberian beaches;
Your painted toes playfully circled
My devotion, rhapsodies in peach.

You caught the sun in your shoulders,
A helping hand beneath straps;
I left my work in its folder,
Lawn mowers loud as thunder claps.

The water butt was empty,
Evaporated hearts there cried;
I sometimes feel your touch still,
Though many years have died.