v4. Delicates

[alonso ramoran]

Delicates



We blinked like sleep could be denied,
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
The traces of our castles could not hide
forever in swimsuits she called inside:
Sophia watched us with each passing chore.
Cold water pulsed in darkness, to restore
our saltsteeped hues that teased a rising tide.

By morning we were gone. The drying air
stirred wind chimes, and the redolent clouds thinned.
The moon dissolved into a backseat daze.
Though lost or passed down colors turn threadbare
as castles are reshaped, this breath of wind
recalled us: an unburdened clothesline sways.

v3. Delicates


We blinked like sleep could be denied,
when bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
As our sand castles crumbled to the tide,
the grit in bathing suits could not abide
beyond the bloodshot vigil of a chore.
A cycle churned in rhythm to restore
the stale and saltsteeped hues returned inside.

Clouds dissipated to the parting air
of chimes. The fading moon, a bleach mark cast,
at dawn was spotted in a backseat daze.
Though raiments lost to oceans turn threadbare
as castles are reshaped, the windswept past
recalled us: an unburdened clothesline sways.


Draft 2: Moment Cycle Wash

We blinked like sleep could be denied
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky you wore,
rinsed sand away, as castles by the tide.
Sidereal then and lunar now collide,
unseen by us; we heard it as the roar
of laundry drowning out a nascent shore,
where vivid shades of blue could not abide.

Clouds dissipated in the gentle song
of chimes, revealing the bleach stain of moon
that you had shown me from your backseat gaze.
And would that I could watch you play along
the seagull's span a little longer, noon
forgets us as an untaut clothesline sways.


Draft 1: Moment Cycle Wash

We blinked like sleep could be denied
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky you wore,
rinsed sand away, as castles by the tide.
Sidereal then and lunar now collide,
unseen by us; we heard it as the roar
of laundry drowning out a nascent shore,
where vivid shades of blue could not abide.

Clouds dissipated in the clement song
of moving chimes, revealing last night's moon
through questions sprouted from your backseat gaze.
And would that I could watch you play along
the seagull's span a little longer, noon
forgets us as an untaut clothesline sways.