Treasure Island

GRANT FRASER

(JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Study for two people, next morning...


While looking for the outline
or at least the shadow of it,
without actually revealing
what I cannot quite bare to show?

Self as a cavernous hole,
for one would have to step
inside me,

And I don't understand this
blur of flesh, that sweated
all night and sighed,
then clenched it's tight
little fists,

So it could unleash itself,
then hide again,
while our bodies outline's
breach time,

Let's insist on breakfast
this is part of the philosophical
clock,

Just before we head out, all over
again, to face it, and find little,

Every thing within us wants to break
the mode...

And you world, too!
can crawl back into your own,

Slight smudges,
fingerprints of dried love,
scales flushed away...

And the wire
just slightly
more bent,
than usual!

Submitted: Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Edited: Thursday, September 05, 2013
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