MY HUSBAND
I live everyday
with the taste of him
upon my flesh.
His scent and his voice
whisper to me throughout the day,
and when we stand together
our shadow is one.
I love him because he is rare,
because he kisses me until the sun comes up
and because he is dangerous and impossible
because I never want to wake up
from this dream without him.
excerpt from the poem
‘My Husband’
2024 Gesso Cocteau©
Dark Bird Why do we reduce reality to one octave,to simplify, to survive?The magnum opus hums just beyond reachof the dark bird’s wingbeat, a secret fracturing the air. The universe sings in undertones,notes lost in the stillness of cravingyet we long for ____something small enough to hold,to press against our soulwhen the silence grows too loud. But the poet knows ____truth lives in the marrow of darkness,in the animal lust of want.To write is to descend,to press a hand to the pulse of shadow,where hunger is raw and unspoken. Underneath, desire is an echo,a body remembering itself,flesh yearning for the myth of touch,primal, unfiltered,like the first fire licking the cave walls,like the stillness before a name is given. We forget the wind carries secrets,that roots hum beneath the soil,that light itself is a chorusspilling gold into morning. But we choose the known,a scale we can master,a pattern we can repeat,fearing the infinite songthat might undo us. And yet,in the pause between heartbeats,in the quiet before ____ the dark bird sings,in the spaces where the music falters,something lingers,an undertone,a world ____waiting. Gesso Cocteau ©2025
At the Edge of Fall This is the time when leaves surrender slowly. How beautiful it is to let things go. The air carries a transient light that gilds the darkening sky reminding me of when I was young, standing at the edge of fall. The elements are swirling together, invisible and weightless ____ a sign of restlessness. Today, I was thinking about you, how you felt beneath my hands like the colors of autumn, amber and gold. (You were like the impending winter ____ a note of bittersweet) When I first sat at the piano I thought I was in love. I bled dark keys into melodies trying to find your heart. The wild black crow you gave to me has never left my side, you said he was a symbol of my darkness and my dreams. And the fire of my youth burned fierce and wild. The ache of your absence remainswoven into the fabric of my being. ____ It seems like a thousand years ago but I can still feel you next to me. (this is the force of destiny) Now ____ your death reminds me of this time of year. I still miss your voice, the way you spoke my name. The way you looked at me from across the room. This is a testament to you, to love and to those rare moments that slip through time. I will always be the unfinished poem waiting for you, standing at the edge of fall. Poetry and Image © Gesso Cocteau
The Fallen TreeThe tree had fallen,there was no sign of conflictno sign of struggle,just the roots separatedfrom the groundas though itsomehow knewit did not exclusivelybelong to this earth.It looked at mefrom eyes tangled deepwithin the quiet of its husk.Its soul was beginning to wanderand the bird who knew this treebecame a witness to its death.(in-between the silence and the grave)Secretsgrounded into shadowsand my desire for youstill feels like sandpaper upon my tongue,____ vampires in my soul.(Sorrow is not translatable)So, you said you wanted meto write you a poem,it’s harder than I thought it would be.Sometimes I feel likethat fallen tree.The birds camethey had no messagesonly feathers, eyes and mythology.The Raven lingeredabove the dying woodstarring into the voidas I wrote this poem.Sometimes things end as they should ____this is my poem for you.© Poetry and Image Gesso Cocteau
