Waiting Room - by Felicity Plunkett

ISLAND | ISSUE 157

Your absence lays its shadow on my skin.
A shadow’s weight is measured by the dark.
Moonflowers open velvet to the night.
You brought the wrong brand of abandon, love.

A shadow’s weight is measured by the dark
moon’s tongue shivering on my thigh.
You brought the wrong brand of abandon. Love,
your craft’s ahead, mine follows in its wake.

The moon’s tongue flickers on my thigh.
You light a row of candles, soft as hymns
you craft. I follow in their wake.
Songless hull, ghost footsteps creak. Above,

you light a row of candles. Soft as hymns
or moonflowers’ velvet in the night.
Songless hull. Ghost footsteps creak above
your absence, their shadow on my skin.

2

No room for a shadow between us.
Nothing weighs more than your song’s lift.
Moonflowers fold their secrets into light.
A time to be slow. A time for abandon:

nothing weighs more. Our song’s lift
forgets the moon. The tidal pull’s our
time to be slow, our time for abandon.
Blaze of harmonica, smoulder of your voice.

Forget the moon, the tidal pull’s yours.
Two boats bump the shore, the shallows pulse
to the blaze of harmonica, shouldering my voice:
I’ve got something to tell you, you made it show.

Two boats bump the shore, the shallows pulse.
Moonflowers fold our secrets into light.
I’ve got something to tell you, you made it
show: never again a shadow between us. ▼

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This poem appeared in Island 157 in 2019. Order a print issue here.

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