In the arms of Zeus

Dusk extinguishes the lavender flames

decanting an avalanche of almosts

to saturate our faded silhouette.

You stand suspended in the pale tangerine

of suburban silence.

I am sutured to your hip by hands

the same porcelaine as mine.

In the arms of Zeus

the sky is nearer and I am

less distant from dreams.

Midnight ignites terror

torched by the ire of

sharp nothings whispered

by lips soon left for dead.

You lie sleeping in pastel silvers

of discarded sky sieved by open windows.

I take refuge in the alcove of bodies

the same porcelaine as mine.

In the arms of Zeus

the sky is nearer and I am

less distant from dreams.

Dawn harvests memories

in coffee and printed ink

of books

—I will someday borrow—

ripe with words I’ll use

[when I too am older]

to punctuate the fragility

of existence.

You sit in the butter grey

of almost-sun that sews the world anew.

I watch you turn pages with fingers

the same porcelaine as mine.

In the arms of Zeus

the sky is nearer and I am

less distant from dreams.

fin.

You can read more of Kathryn’s poetry here.

This poem was first published in OVERDUE magazine