It's Still Life

I.
Living In a Quiver

I remember your mouth, soft
and sea salt sweet, awake
as a scattered melody.
Lighthearted and revealing
as the moon’s careless truth.
Our buried whispers.
We moved through the years,
lost happily in a quiver.
Those memories are ghosts but
we’ll pretend we’re forever.

II.
Up In Smoke

He’d stack the wood, light
the fire, stuck newspaper up
the flue to draw smoke.
It didn’t work; never worked.
The house filled with smoke.
Mum opened every window as
smoke rolled from the fireplace.
Dad would shout, “Close those!”
Mum fanned the smoke about,
fanned memories into ghosts.

written for dVerse Quadrille #26