"pronouncing petals, saying citron."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Inside The Palace Walls
You're in the gardens, a breeze hidden
stars and what you said moments ago.
if I will ever move again. There is
and your voice becomes dark as I lift
learning silence; when my forgetful thoughts
Do you hear me come and go through these dark
In this Alhambra, you're all whisper,
distant in some corner; but as if my head
is flared with bat ears, I listen.
in stillness, pronouncing petals, saying citron.
The reflecting pool pulses with the mountains'
And I must turn from these patterns
on the walls, the paths of symmetry you recite so quietly,
a tryst of meanings that I miss, where the moon's stopped
short beneath the fretwork of the arches;
a flame from room to room, never finding
you. To ease my mind, I ask you questions,
babble-out the world, like a lonely fountain,
your words return the valley bells, and I cease.
galleries? I long to know.
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