midwinter melodrama

You might find me melodramatic
This midwinter night
In my navy, posh frock
With my magical moments
And flame-haired nonsense.

I digress and romanticise,
Express myself impulsively
Alongside evergreens,
Companionable fires and
illuminations.

Animal Collective
And sounds of Hejira
Remind me of you, with your
Walking boots and skew whiff
Pirate stance, lolloping into

Lamp-posts because part of you
Resides in 'an(other) dimension(s)'.
You confuse my senses,
It doesn't matter now if I write
With a nice pen or not.

Filled with warm fuzz in Narnia,
A sore hip and near-bust lip
Remind me of being a kid.
A nice, anti-traditionalist
Veggie dinner,

Pressies wrapped by Pops in
Recycled paper
And lovely as it is, I might just
Volunteer at a soup kitchen
Next winter.

Precious, bijoux gifts including
Sweet Music (oh Bijou!)
Garnet earrings and the romantic catalogue
Of an ended relationship
Through objects (ironic!)

Love notes, postcards,
Items of clothing, polaroids
And all the while
My brother catalogues
Lifetimes of song in decadagonal order,

Desiring to preserve the life of a dearly
Loved Dead-Head.
I also have recently rearranged my
Books according to Colour-
This therapy reigning order over chaos.

We're all obsessed with this in
Individual ways
But there were too many
Blacks and whites in the pile
To oppose the balance.

"It's just a book" representing a
Subjective collection of moments;
Separate lots of a life
Reflected in objects
To be viewed by collectors of detail.

I remember to avoid detail in life,
Concentrate on the same -
An album, a book, a poem, a photograph
Dedicated to love
Of the singular.

Should these islands of minds
Not be plural, please?
Connected by fluidity and sand
And yet, I fret
Not immediate contact.

Wavering, bonded, on a plateau
Below, my face like chalk to

Hide love's wings and

I jump at the noise

As lamp-light swims.

The residual spark,
The soot of contact, I envisage;
Foot to foot with those toes I love.
Dense hair on an open head
And sombre navy blue eyes,

Both dark and bright
Thus connected to life
By a solitary silver thread.
I dread the day you go away
But my arms encircle freedom.

I respect Your disregard for possession

In our recycled air.
Yes, You (and did You notice, You have
a capital letter?)
Even as I speak of removing possession.

Balance is key to all as I
Shake snow from the branches
Of trees like sprinkling dust,
Those symbols of solstice
Amongst frozen time and berry wine.