Landscape Poem by andrew cormack

Your lips open across the grey landscape,
A trail of smoke lifts from the surface.
I am not proud of my escape.

Moonlight falls on my loss like a drape.
A particle caught in the beam of your brightness.
Your lips open across the grey landscape.

On the bridge lost in my translations I reshape
the earth and the stars into your likeness.
I am not proud of my escape.

My voice joins the pack of wolves reeling on a tape,
It's broken spool unravels into the wind into emptiness.
Your lips open across the grey landscape.

I pick up the traces to heal my scrape
Gathering in my years of brainlessness.
I am not proud of my escape

Now my feelings return and gape,
I make up for lost time with freshness,
Your lips open across the grey landscape
I am not proud of my escape.