Les Troubadours

By Woojin Lim

canso
forgetful lilacs fade away into sticky childhood
campfires; the recounting of stone’s story, the
wrinkles in time forever silenced in a rosewood
box, cradling clair de lune, marble & debussy

the mellow orange bells of the cathedral drop
icicles in fiddler throats, counting spiders & stars
in soft sheens of vigil, heavy thoughts remain
below; the river weeps while she reads, halcyon.

alba
the black swan perks her neck; she wakes up
in slush, drifting atop ripples, evanescence &
existence, here today, gone tomorrow, nibbling
on the soft-custard clouds she treasures dearly

the night sky is filled with churning stars; under
the moonlight’s tense breath, there is music &
light, her unsheathed heartbeat knocks on soul,
footprints in the snow—all is reducible to poetry