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  • Writer's pictureTaryn D

Somewhere Still

Updated: Jul 11, 2021

I hurl headlong into bed next to you

the way I imagine a body might land

after it jumps from a burning building.

You are reading that dog-eared

copy of The Last Castle.

Take-four, since becoming parents

and public library outlaws.


The first time you embarked

the leisure of a novel

was moons ago and we were rosy

at the remote end of the lake

under a vanilla sky --

Our favourite Hollywood cliche

to steal moments underneath.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I squint through one flickering eye

like a moth against a window pane

and notice that you look

exactly the same

as you did skipping stones across the

upside-down glass cedars.

There's a hint of a footprint

where the brazen blackbird

narrowly missed your eye

with his gentle stamp.

Other than this faint kiss of time,

you look the same.


A car sighs past our bedroom.

You turn a worn page

and unconsciously

reach across the rumpled

bed linens to rest your hand

on the the blade of my shoulder.

My heart skips like the pebble

across the cool mirrored sky

a few beats

skimming sleep.

Somewhere still

a gentle wave laps the shore.


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