The Street Floor- Aoife Holohan

My chewed-up lips taste like pebbles
I feel around in them for the pavement
hoping the pieces will stitch back the night
I tip toe around the cobbles
trace the stones, their criss cross pattern jigsaw puzzle
hoping the pieces will make your nose sit straight,
summon your eyes and distill their color
sever it from the street lamps
but it’s as if I’m looking through glass
emptied ones
And so I fill them,
Until I’m cut from them
and my fingers turned to crystal
are sculpted round you,
you who could be anyone
you whose bed feels like bricks on my back
I crumble to sand and you sweep me,
beneath your sheets
walking home I look for my buttons
caught up in the cracks
like coins between couch cushions
maybe you gathered them
to jingle in your pockets
the night’s chorus, your keepsakes
or perhaps under the stare of the sun
you don’t want to look for me
but to leave me and my buttons
as secrets of the street floor.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *