South Facing Window

Since I moved house
I can no longer see you


since I moved, your shine paints the west side 
of my shared Victorian semi-detached
and I am jealous of my neighbours 


they don't even open the curtains at night.
so when the street lights blip on
and the sky is painted a drab (lack lustre) orange 
that muffles the brilliance of your distant cousins


I am left wondering if you miss me
and my laboured rants, that you've expansively
listened to since I was a lonesome ashy kneed kid,
who thought you were so beautiful

and believed Juliette must have been a real stunner
for Romeo to say she was better looking than you


I was happy when when I moved
but greatly vexed that I would not be able 
to share my secrets with you directly
but make do with inventing your mood 
when your luminous song bends around brick
surfs over the roof of my new home,

to bleach the trees in the backyard
till they are sterling statues, with silvery spindles of fingers, 
full of quivering tongues, in the breezy dark


But then at least, from my couch, I comfortably imagine 
that unconditionally you fall across the slates 
wishing you could penetrate and 
envelop me in your crystal gaze again


Zena Edwards©

The Tear

A poem
has a tear naturally riding
the dolce wave that winds whimsically
through each line


the stanza is toppled
by the deluge
wringing out the last emotion


The invisible umbilical
blunged* between writer and reader
determines the turn of the passion


the unassuming  tear
shall be flavored with it
infusing the world to rights

*to blunge - The wet process of blending clay with water in order to form a suspension for use in ceramics

Written By Zena Edwards ©