Conjuring You in Daylight
I lit up in remembrance
when you called out.
How foreignly familiar
the sound of one’s own name
when spoken by another –
it leapt through your mouth
as a linguistic curve-ball.
Once, you turned bedfellows
with skateboards into Gods,
wrapped in musky sheets –
still damp with night’s balm
and stale ginger wine.
A sleazy mannequin
stood vigil – lone voyeur,
dripping bright threads
that would brush your skin
after he would leave;
the jealous morning light
tapping at your window,
wishing its name adored.
©️Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 