Of cider and softness

This conspiracy
I am willingly abetting
Wends its way
‘twixt boulders
And sunsets.
It holds you
Responsible.
It holds grudges and faint whispers
In a homemade basket;
Brushes of skin on skin
And wafting lavender smiles.
Neatly wrapped photographs
Folded into my heart
and into the back pockets of autumn’s worn jeans.
They taste of cider and softness;
Sandpaper and seashells;
elastic bound and torn ‘round the edges.
This conspirator
like a deity,
beyond sight or command;
ill or erratic in temperament;
has planted the seed
of longing for you

Published on Rue Scribe July 2018

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