by Carol Krause
i float on clouds you're there too and since our mouths are full of light we
have no need to say i loved you better when or why can't you be more we
rest on beams of light that don't crack sometimes we look down and see
cars and planes and people shopping for something to feed the empty place
inside and we remember that great dance the way our limbs would flail and
stretch and quiver the many things we lost and the grief that fell through
us like a flaming stone and i turn to you and say we have work to do and
we laugh because there is no work left just the task of holding them in our
hearts and maybe inviting them up from time to time massaging their feet
blowing a blessing in their ear and then down they go back into their race
to swallow the sun we consider cheering them on but decide it's best to
listen quietly to the sound their breath carries in the wind sometimes we
whisper a few syllables into the dark every once in a while they turn their
heads but mostly they have no idea the state of love they're in
CAROL KRAUSE is a poet whose naturally psychoactive mind often disrupts her plans. Sometimes this results in joy. Carol’s poetry has appeared in PRISM international, The Fiddlehead, Minola Review, Into the Void, and is forthcoming in Best Small Fictions. You can find her inside a cave at carolkrause.ca.
a few syllables, a whisper was edited by Terese Mason Pierre and Sean Dowie. It can be found in Augur Magazine Issue 4.2.
