Poetry

Return

by
Christina M. Lamb

 

Your lips are a phantom-touch

in fitful nights of shorelines lost

in desert storms.

 

I pick out your hum.

Soft-low croon caught midway

above the din of rotor-blades

beating up sand clouds.

 

Stars fall above your head,

trail-blazing across skies bright

with night assaults.

 

I don't understand why your sun blew out.

Vaporized,

point blank,

for someone's god.

 

Grief keeps a cold grip

around our sheetless bed,

where a flag rests

on your creaseless pillow.

 

Christina is a twenty-something writer originally from North Wales where she began writing poetry in her school years.  She has recently migrated south to the Wiltshire Cotswolds where she lives with her partner and her extremely eccentric cat.  She has been writing seriously for a year after a very long dry spell and recently placed first in the horizons award at NPAC.  This is her first publication.