Roof Charm
What is home if not exile to the familiar?
A serrated kiss at the closet door.
We duck our heads and cook meals undercover,
the sun’s rays deflected.
And every relentless day finds
our hands wanting.
The black shawl, unfolded.
Wax melted on the whetstone.
You say stars shiver despite their light.
You say one hand mirrors its mate’s arc.
I say warmth flows through you, the roof our sky.
“Roof Charm” made its first appearance here in June 2016.
I missed this the first time. I am glad you shared it once again.
It has phrases I have never seen before, that get me thinking.Pondering.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What else could any poet ask for? Thanks, PS.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I absolutely love the first line, brilliant.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much. I’m so pleased that it resonates for you.
LikeLiked by 1 person