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February 19, 2024

Blue Horizons

By Gabriella Garofalo

Blue Horizons

Midwinter, maybe,
The wind blasting words and my hair,
Green letters going mouldy,
Yet the shiny limbs of lovers still tasting salty --
Well, not bad, but wandering souls
Knew better than going all ohs and ahs,
So they gave me some noble advice:
'Don't sell yourself short to the mawkish pink of sunsets,
Exotic birds don't fit in suburban parks
Nor do fluffy clouds posing as dreams.
Geddit? Still wary?
Ask the moon then, she never shines
Her contempt if mothers and North stars
Entwine in ephemeral hugs,
If the hand that first held yours
Never fed you life, but slips --
Too young, too shaky.'
'So what? I was born on a blue day and I act blue,
Pomegranates leave me cold bored, I'm afraid,
I can't act wise, whoever says so is a liar,
I can't 'cause moody blue waves sweep me away,
Stray cats get lost between the limbs and rains of my place
And rainbows in tatters ask me who made them blow up --
Never mind, anyway:
Whenever I feel as breathing fire
My children give shelter to painters and priests:
They never go wrong, see, they're sheer light,
And I can desert myself if need be:
My names saw to it, those bloody sea rovers
Who marooned my lost soul
On desert islands and births:
Was it an easy task?
Yes. Yes indeed --
But children can never go wrong, I know they're sheer light --
Yes. Yes indeed I say again.

Article © Gabriella Garofalo. All rights reserved.
Published on 2018-02-05
Image(s) are public domain.
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