Author Information
cold trace
Folder:
backburner results
'cold trace'
we left
both our mugs
by the edge
of the glass,
un-washed,
un-remembered,
minutes
collapsing
— a pale double ring
where coffee dribbled
the fridge's song
the town's grey noise.
— warning absent
silence loud
no time left
no key in hand
but for a flash
brake light blaring
the turn of the sea
your coat on the chair
where shadows remain
grease on the panes
a clock on the wall
ticking hard
ticking out
ticking down
leaving nothing at all.
"la monde d’jour"
a kosmos of the day
loosens itself from morning’s sleeve,
small radiances drifting out
like fruit‑dust shaken off a market stall.
streets breathe in temporary constellations,
each passerby carrying a private sky
stitched for daylight use only.
by evening, the world folds its wings,
tucks it into whatever eave stays warm,
and waits for tomorrow’s version
to rise with a different face.
.
