Your couch never felt so comforting, I thought While you were mumbling something About the perfect Way of scrambling Some nice fluffy eggs, and I was stretching over The arm of your sofa, the one With the manly musky odour that borders On unbearable, but I bear it because I care for you. So IContinue reading “That Damned Couch.”
Author Archives: Sam Dover
Empathy in the Face of…
The only actions that seem to carry any value in the face of death are those that reduce the suffering of our fellow persons and those generations who are still to come. How many times have I walked roads paved over and over by the long-dead generous of spirit? Nature is an unfathomable spectacle, butContinue reading “Empathy in the Face of…”
Out-of-Touch
Grandparents. Who knew I would miss them so much – that I would yearn for that wrinkled touch? I look at him and I see a shadow of a man and it scares me. He closed himself from the world so I closed myself from him. When I see him I see me, or atContinue reading “Out-of-Touch”
This Digital Weight
Long before the currently mandated separation, I felt familiar with this distance. As a child of the internet age, I often recall episodes from my past that never entirely happened — at least not in the physical world. Moments of real connection and emotional substance neutered by pale colour palettes and sterile displays. Now thatContinue reading “This Digital Weight”
The world looks to be ending (in your arms)
As you and I abandon all plans past next TuesdayDon’t cry for the mob will hear us sniffle:The mob who forgot their neighbourAmidst their self-mummification who Monitor and mutilate and I long to be in your arms As the Flames rise up like spears in a phalanxAnd we self-isolate in squat-houses,The sky tinted red butContinue reading “The world looks to be ending (in your arms)”
Black Spot
Rocks fling from the asphalt, loose pennies cast at my upturned bowler-hat bubble car, asteroids challenging my ozone windshield; I’d forgotten how these roads feel. Scattered with obituaries to long-dead high-school hopefuls. Laminated photographs, cryogenic colleagues forever youthful; trunks smiling with plastic flowers, music blared: my Piccadilly daydream- Each sliced bud grows in me, burgeoning,Continue reading “Black Spot”
Hearts in context
I give you space when you’ve got mourning to do Because when they say we’re through we’re rarely ever through. I will never have all of you Nor should I ever desire to. Your heart has many doors Your bloodstream never snores You play rewind and pause On the garments you once wore, You boreContinue reading “Hearts in context”
122 Australia St
I didn’t know it could be like thisnot a great way to start but I can’t quite resist, as when I’m Falling asleep to the twinkling chatter of your jawRunning its sleep cycle diagnostic tests,Your fingers curling into the skin of myBicep a little too tight and my latentClaustrophobia forcing 3 of 4 limbs outOfContinue reading “122 Australia St”
My Boots
My boots they get me from A to B And follow me faithfully over the seas, Airplane rubber lending me flight, When no one else will They’ll hold me tight To my path, tied to my mast, right To my future and through to my past, But the leather is worn, the Rubber has holesContinue reading “My Boots”
Flames at the tips
We walked under maple trees and The dewy autumn leaves were plastered Thick and heavy like wet newspaper strips Folding and praying for their papier-mâché Tourniquet to hold our splayed limbs Together so this moment lasts just a little while longer But the leaves will dry, The winds will pick up, For this is theContinue reading “Flames at the tips”
