Two Summers Ago by Michael Holme

I wept. Life

began to close in.

Daylight was a veiled bride

and nighttime was Valium.

Sleep was over fifteen

thousand reminders

of my foolish longings.

I’d woke in company

four times.

I gradually thawed. 

Life stubbornly moulds,

dragging its own scruff.

Two summers ago

metamorphosis began.

I mock lovers

and religious sheep.

We’re levelled,

that’s it:

furness plumes sinking,

seeding our arboreal continuance.

Michael Holme is an English poet and musician. When not reading, writing or playing he’s online. Some of his poems can be googled, others are in print in Boston Literary Magazine, Kestrel, Time of Singing and PRR. He studied poetry with Alison Chisholm.