Wordle #175

175

My bones stutter in your absence

Such is longing, such is language

When the subject sustains bafflement.

I dust the rifts, the rickety cliffs

Ribs pulled open like a silk blouse.

You will never know the weight

Of this cart in occupancy,

The necessity of your gravity

In the consolation of my preemptive flights.

You will never know my devastation,

The vain rhetorical couplings

As I preach to a staccato moon.

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23 responses to “Wordle #175

  1. “My bones stutter in your absence Such is longing” This is a great line. I read and re-read the poem, then re-read this line alone a couple more times. I think it strikes deep because, unless our bones are hurting, we don’t feel them — longing definitely hurts, hurts as deep down as bones.

  2. To feel such ache to the core, to the bone. That is surely longing. It is hard to truly know what others carry until we have spent a good bit of time with them. Even then.

  3. Pingback: JOURNEY TO MYSTIC RIFT (for d’Verse AND MindLoveMisery–Wordle 175) | Dim Scribbles Diary·

  4. “The necessity of your gravity/In the consolation of my preemptive flights.
    These are but two of the lines; there are more that reach inside me.
    One of your excellent examinations of relationships and self.

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