Aping Love


I find shelter in the line of your clavicle, a geometric diagram, 

The resonant alcove of a moonless night rendered penitent.

There are no truths to be found in the extension of your limbs

A parody of allusion, this puzzle not mine to piece together.

I watch your reflection embedded on the surface of the window,

A calamitous prototype of a self never to be fully revealed.

Like a ghastly superstition, you adhere to the periphery of my psyche,

Aping love.

The climax of this play, so imprecise that I believed it a rumour,

Will see me flutter off its stage as if I were a dancer or a compulsive gambler

Whipped by the mundane into senseless sacrifice, and yet…

Dangerously unsteady, we cling to one another to the end.


Daily Prompt: Mirror, Mirror

22 thoughts on “Aping Love

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  7. Have just read your poem, properly, Vic. After rushing to my dictionary to define “clavicle” (I’m not ashamed to admit I didn’t know the meaning of :)) I absolutely love it. I’m not sure I understand it entirely, but I understand enough to feel its power, its exquisite pain…

    • Thank you Lee-Anne. I’ve always found that specificity can pull you into a story with more urgency than general terms… I am glad you feel the verse – more often than not it is precisely this that I try to do: convey a feeling or an impression – one that calls for an emotive understanding rather than an analytic one.

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