imagimachinations

hope without a final vowel
is a step into the silent air
as if spring were,
and planetary bodies once held each other
in warmer embraces.

even if patterns pull at people
they are still frayed
at the core
and at the edges they sheen
like shadows over concrete slabs in photographs
of footpaths.
they listen
unaware of hearts squeezing

they are trying to constrict the airs that pass through,
to pack them and wrap them and
gift them to all

all
next to together

it has been years,
but still hanging are
those hopes,
garlands over houses
rooms where trials for belonging were held;
they are trophies
taxidermied by the passage of
emotion
they are imagimachinations
of an untogotten whirl of man.