Candice Louisa Daquin – Daughter and father and time


By Candice Louisa Daquin

Painting By Vincent Van Gogh. Courtesy: Creative Commons

ANAMNESIS It is already arranged. There in the uncluttered portion of my heart where simple things lay flat like pressed linen cloth awaiting the weight of the fork. This year, bruised branches split like dry husks coughing out their hibernating marrow against Winter's frosted, relentless betrothal. You look older, the tugged downturn of your eyes, gravities Siamese clamour as time winnows her efforts with feathering stroke and what is not said lies dormant like unlit coal in our hearth. It is written: If you go, I go with you. We are a chain forged in occidental fate where night lifts her greying skirts to invite morning. I watch you turn fitful in your engulfing sleep all the years flickering like an old 16mm film playing to sleeping audiences with muted sound. The click of tape, machine, motion, glossy…

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