marker horizon

Sometime between mid to end of February

the night cools down, makes audible of

circadian rhythm stabilising

and the concrete letting out

a breath.

Somewhere a map carves out something

for itself,

divides the land and lovers.

A headache occurs, heart breaking.

Spray meeting shore, a thought erodes

or is chosen to forget.

History perseveres,

commits the moment to memory

in soil

still warm and beating.

Filed under: Poetry