blue, blue, viridian, blue

Painting by Portia Zvavahera, ‘I can feel it with my eyes’

ultramarine blue will 

dissolve me with its 

persistence 

(maybe it’s summer blue)

either way 

I’m undone 

every time 

it passes me by 

nowadays, I’m a syndrome 

with no known causes

a constellation of 

tricks 

and tiredness 

remember, 

(we always remembered)

that just the dust around the home

was enough to protect

and preserve our energy 

for the plan ahead

I keep smoking my home.

still, i’m losing

my bush soul. 

but there are moments 

I catch the wave

a headlong dive

a suspension

a fertile tension 

strung through 

and my spine empties,

becomes a violin bow

in perfect tune,

or a bicycle ride

through a midnight

Copenhagen

bliss

some passers by saw me praying 

and their conversation 

became a whisper 

in the garden 

of surprise.

under the plane trees

they saw soft fascination

spread her roots

remembering, remembering 

sycamore and oriental plane

in her quivering 

and excitable cells

viridian viridian

waves arrive

to wash me of my certainty 

to tip me

(quite gently)

out of my 

synthetic,

plastic (!)

life-raft

I wander along

the ocean carpet, 

a deep blue

I found 

a pearl in my heart, 

a pearl!