Emptiness
can
be
so
filling
;
sometimes.
©
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Train
The train rolled through
scattered
desert plains
and
rusting aeroplanes
As
I chased
and chased
until
I broke through
to reality.
9.15 AM
Morning.
© Hudson Biko
Scent
Your
remains
remain
lingering
on sofa sets
like the smoke of cigarettes
on jackets
from all those summers ago.
Your
remains
remain
lingering
in corridors
whose doors
open to floors
I call memory.
Your remains remain lingering,
opening
doors
to corridors
of
memory,
from all those summers ago.
© Hudson Biko
Closing
I’m
getting
dangerously
good
at
closing people
off
;
a part of me likes that.
© Hudson Biko
Replacement
I remember the way you came in.
With the efficiency of an assassin,
you momentarily
stopped the passing
of blood cells
to brain cells,
you momentarily
kept them
rushing
and revolving
around
one
unreasoning
part
I call my heart
You momentarily
made me think
that you were
better
than that other assassin
that almost killed me.
But you never were,
You never will be.
© Hudson Biko
