The Stars Turn in Silence

Most nights when you are not here
I open my window and listen
To how the wind moves in the trees
Like your breath quick in my ears.

No wind tonight since sunset. The stars,
Restless as always, turn in silence
And the sheets are damp and tangled,
But all I hear is my own slow breath.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, The Sky, The Wind. Bookmark the permalink.

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