November 2012


Our Little Remains
Skyfall
Once Removed
Don't You Dare Be Long
These Winter Mornings

Autumn's Growl
I Want To Crawl From My Skin
We Fall to Rise
Heron Scream
Demons at the Gate

Our Little Remains

Very little remains on my skin
of the man I used to be to you
no cell lingers that knew you.
no whorl of my fingers could know
what they once touched.

Little remains in my heart
of the man who once loved you
no ache of your leaving
no scars raw from the words
that once cut me to my virtual knees.

Little remains, but so much is still here
on the walls of my mind
in the songs we sang on a pulse of harmony.
little remains - just a smile
an old ghost of love

 

 

Scott N. Loveall, © 2012


Skyfall

lemon splayed the walls
a sun blessed light
butter sautéing a mess of turnip greens
the sky fell to a late summer hush.

Evening crawled into our laps
like a cat having moused,
a lioness purring
medium rare,
bloody, it’s whiskers fed.

Feed on these evenings with me,
the flesh of their light
drizzling from our jowls
the sweetness
the passion of this light
echoed in the mirrors of our eyes.

 

 

Once Removed

I set with Harlan
in an alley off Prospect,
two fruit crates our stools

we were witness to the blur
the sirens
the gritty hissing of cabs
the metro’s pulsing,
suspended in the thick august air.

of diesels waining,
rising and falling
chuffing, squalling - stop to stop

Harlan hugged his bottle
reluctant to let go,
a petulant child
awash in a dream
kept on his very short leash.

I had brought my own
so we were free to talk
though he eyed mine in hopes…

Each brick on the walls,
on the floor,
bore layers of grease
- years of conversations,
of other Harlans on their crates
and the endless echo of bus.

We toasted paper bags
and enjoyed the alien parade.

image © Rachel Throwell

Don’t You Dare Be Long


His Delta lifted
and turned into the sun
headed into the storms
and the deadly seas of longing.

She closed her eyes
not wanting the image
of it gone in the distance,
just a contrail left to embrace.

Too many nights
to relive the glories,
too many rain gray days
to see his eyes only inches from hers,
or the dark pink of his tongue
hidden by her thighs.

His Delta lifted
and turned into the sun.
she straddled him
as he pushed the recline button down.

She turned to him
And whispered.
“dogdamnit I love you,
don’t you dare be long!”

These Winter Mornings

I can hear the sea churning,
coquina clattering like liquid maracas
the fog is thinning
its veil growing wispy
‘neath this creamy Roquefort sky.

It is these winter mornings
when I'll crave you the most,
when our faces were wet with sea mist,
our hair shiny with dew,
a trail of our passage on cold virgin sand.

The gulls are fighting
a Great Blue Heron stalks a shimmering rock
as the air glows lemon,
my reverie dissolving with the fog
the sun burning your tendrils away.

 

Autumn’s Growl

It is autumn’s growl
that holds our attention…
her dark passage knocking
nattering at my leaf strewn gate.

color is drawn away in sips
until you look down and see it
crispy and frail
a desiccated remnant of art.

only the sky survives
it’s blues so vivid,
topaz gleaming
on the neck of winter’s queen

It is the fire I smell
that locks me in

the consumption of the land
that tells me we have yielded

that we must concede
change out our skin.