Fisted Glove Of A Thousand Islands - Poem by gregory collins
Where birds fly from time to time. Like
to tie back our hair along the horizon,
helps us creep across a garden before
it puts on its clothes, and the sunset
is such nonsense we never so much as meet.
Know that while i am in this world,
i am only a stone's throw away from being
strung around your neck; From being one of the beads
begging God, this is the necklace. This is the tear
that collects in puddles, this is for me forever new
just as good as drinking, and i have no wish
to go home at all, no wish for the soft wet dreams of the sea.
My life is short enough already, to bring me old age
speaking the words of youth. Speaking of playing games
without the moon aware of summer, without the moon
shedding tears that crosses the sky and blows me a letter:
A letter reading, 'think only of my love' -
The fisted glove of a thousand islands.
The little clump that outweighs my heart
in the breaking dawn. In the silence of my mother's shadow,
where i cut light off along the way.
Comments about Fisted Glove Of A Thousand Islands by gregory collins
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.