caught in cobwebs

silken traces of you here
still
six months on
and I can draw my eye
around the ghost of you
edgy, smoking
the blunt clamour of ideology
the F sharp of philosophies
fighting a lost battle against
a tidal sound wave
the din of oncoming love

and the fast soul of your
expectations
here with me
now light as a mosquito
kiss-kiss against the glass
of new boundaries

the circle of coffee
sighs an “ohooo”
to this quiet cacophony

in that corner there
music eddies
strung like gold shells
caught in the cobwebs

the calendar sings
a choir of lies
telling me it’s
november
when I last lay here in solitude
caught up in myself
and not ready
but listening
to the music of the spheres
of life and loss
of experience and thought
of how love just travels it’s own
wild slow fast quiet hollering self
in whatever shape it can fit
a human being