THIS DESERT WHERE WE DROWNED THE DANCE

 

This Desert where We Drowned the Dance

Guttural;
pertaining to a particular sound
at the back of the mouth, there,
in that spot not quite reachable,
still quite parched.

Water;
to sprinkle, to moisten. I do this
to quench a longing I can’t reach
though I cannot hold this liquid
just like I couldn’t retain the lips
that once kissed this neck, here
where throat was left parched.

Energetic;
processing or exhibiting energy
in abundance, like I had before
your truth got twisted, before
all your charming turned into
that drought which buried us
while you left me;
Guttural.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

 

Written as part of the Cobh Writers and Readers #PoetryPrompt featured on Twitter. Do drop by and join in the creative distraction. @CobhWR

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