life’s debris, or ‘history’

a reliquary of long-forgotten things:

rag-dolls, ravished (embraced thread-bare),

and other antidotes to childhood fear;

daguerreotypes; unburnished promise rings;

 

baby-grows, outgrown before first wear;

coin-collections, three from being complete

propped by pill-boxes, garish and discrete;

a butterfly-clip which once pinned thinning hair,–

 

each shelf, a shore for many a life’s debris.

these trinkets outlive our dearest memories.

your body, donne’s astronomy

orbiting eyes roll backwards in delight,–

swirling in sockets

those brilliant comets

streak burning trails across your line of sight.

 

and so i flare. a stargazer, i stare

at the planetary body

(which eclipses mine completely),–

“this bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.”