LOOK FOR ME

look for me
in the critical mass of a high easterly rain
the minute it gives way
to the lockjaw steam and bite of
sunshine talons

in closed-for-the-season terraces and their edgy lampshade leaf skins
waifish cigarette butts and other cornerstore detruis
harkening an absent pink wine melody of details

in the funnel shadows of brakish waters
busy in the stillness of blooming pond scum and whizzing insect arrays
in the red form of uncertain springtime syzygies
and the techno stress of an evolution that doesn't yet know its own
nature

in pyramids of forest sap resisting the downward trend
of cowering fern bodies that cling gymnastically
to earthen inferiorities like some changeling

in the colourless swell of the oceans at daybreak
when there's no one around to witness a thing

look for me

in the beat of the long-haul trucks battering
viscera parkways like zombies in shopping malls
their roadkill corpses weeping in the polar sun

in the big commercial wharves, yellow drag nets barren of catch
for this soft underlay of a cinematic afternoon that finds
civilization's teacup gone cold

in the bark of starlight over the arctic melting
out of control like the chuffed bonfire of human savagery

in the purple demonstration of every political sigh
and argument avoided for the sake of cereal-cartel conciliation
in the timbre of a voice that fails to deliver
yet manages to slip you everything

look for me
in the crosshatch of a limpid twilight that
makes the candles in the grotto seem extra rosy
in the docility of a kitchen when the last of the dishes are done
and the smell of cooking can no longer be traced to its formative
ingredients

look for me
look for love

Michelle Bellerose is difficult to biographize. For even less information visit Blog

Email: Michelle Bellerose

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