Her Ledger of Longing

There is something growing in me for you
that trembles like a child in the camp of
the night whose eyes keep searching for the dew

of a dawn that she’s denied. It’s not love,
but a canvas of longing she can’t control
and yet keeps setting her shoulder to shove

her ledger of longing across the kohl
of the night like a hook to catch you by.
There’s loneliness in me as raw as coal

that you light up like a new-written sky,
breaking a dawn for the girl left in me
that weakens its warmth as the hours go by,

leaving a blink of light that she can’t see
and does nothing to quench the depths of me.

© Keighley Perkins

About handshedown

Keighley Perkins is a Cardiff-based poet whose influences include Anis Mojgani, Selima Hill and Richard Brautigan. Her work has previously been published in "Acumen", "Elbow Room", "Erbacce", "Fire", "Northwind" and "Obsessed with Pipework". She can also be found online on Twitter at @handshedown. View all posts by handshedown

2 responses to “Her Ledger of Longing

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