Poetry

Guessing Games

I guess it just hit me,
right between the eyes,
that it’s the street that
I’ve been drowning with a
hundred thousand sighs.

Maybe I should have tried
some of them on you,
before the borealis
breezed out, straight
into the black and blue,

through a window by the
open door, stealing colour,
leaving more than I
can screw a handle on.
here, now, life’s a blur.

I guess I just can't say
– in meagre words –
what it meant, to always
have a taxi idling,
waiting to pick me up.

I guess that’s just right.

This is Something

You are the breath on the lake
while I sleep, a wisp of thought
faint as air in my breast,
a half remembered dream
curled up under my pillow.
You are my breath, my dreams,
the ripple arcing through my life.

Alex Davis