Saturday, 2 August 2014


(The rain still falls without your laugh)      
Where bass thunder wracks the night; is sown  
where heart is amiss and failing fast       
and lightning warmth unseen; shape bolts cast  
off to light a distant hearth                
where careless fucks, alight, still moan       

(Left forgotten, the bones of you)             
Stolen laughter, those memories bound          
in loves' peculiar hidden spaces             
and alight in washes' groaning graces          
to fade, before instance too few             
fragmenting echoes of laughter's sound.        

To think, 
the certainty I had you’d live in poesy.
The rain still falls without you.

Dedicated to Caleb Chatfield always and forever missed.

Started a couple of years ago after the death of my father and left raw and unfinished. I'm finally happy with this draft. It will always be a draft though.

© Caleb Chatfield and SeekingSinecure, 2011-


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