Blue light on dark rivers,blue notes floating in veils of winddown chasms of blue canyonswhose denouement issuesinto fields of tiny bluets limning the dawn.
I covet illusions:my diaspora of bluish stars,periwinkle glinting wet the eye,and two sapphires shy recessed in the iris.I see a child’s face face the worldlike aqua light borne in waterblinking awake.
What theatre of stars doesn’t expire?I stand in the night heatof high summer, cherish the starlightimparted with far-flung dreams,learning to losethe trajectories, the tendrils of constellationsI could always locate out of lovere-arranging their crooked conversationbehind the mystery of roofs.Eventually they rise out of the fringe of trees,and drape garlands in the pondaround a wading moon

whose sheath I float through tethered to my madness. 

Where are you now?

Still I am blue for lack of you,and forgiveness is a low blue flame.

***

Photo by Max Kleinen on Unsplash