Moss by Ciaran Parkes

Moss

Hesitant, your voice
when I pick the phone up
but soon we’ve returned
to a remembered flow

from two years earlier.
I hold your warm
words against my face.
It’s winter outside.

As we talk I scrape
moss from the windowsill
and watch it falling, so much of it.
I hadn’t noticed it before.

by Ciaran Parkes

Editor’s Note: Spare lines and imagery effortlessly carry this poem’s central allegory of loss.

One thought on “Moss by Ciaran Parkes

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.