Like a Drawing on a White Wall

You arrived at night like sudden news
Dropped on the wooden floor
Through the letter box
And said that I looked
Like a drawing on a white wall to you so
We rolled our sleeves up
And made poems out of clay.

Each word left a trace on my skin
The time just added thousands and thousands of marks
Bites of land which the current spat out.

The poems had no weight so
We captured them in small bottles,
Let them float away in the air;
Brief prayers to comfort
The dying in their last hour of pain.

Nothing disturbed the stillness of the moment
Nothing at all
But the unsettled dark owl
Kept watching us from afar.
The sunrise about to burst in.

Photo: Georgiana Calinescu-Barber