ENSEMBLE
the madrigal, volume iii.v
Oliver
by eliza davis
9:32 pm on the district line
you touch my heart softly, warm
glances of your fingertips
smile when i turn to look at you
the quiet fluttered smile of
eyes and quirking lips,
a eulogy of gentle loving
we were headstrong children when
first i plummeted to loving you,
and i spent endless days in craving
give me tenderness, a kiss of cherry
blossom, tell me that you care for me,
tell me again, an arduous insecurity
that rots us from the inside out
shush, noisy frenzy. you did not listen
with your heart. you did not learn
the language of his kindness. you
filled the silences with fearful chatter,
you did not think to pause, attune -
his endearment is painted into pastel landscapes
the quietest, softest beauty
eliza is a poet, academic, and regular abuser of the rule of three. she writes obsessively, indiscriminately. it's always about love. last year, for christmas, eliza gave her son a scalextric. she refutes the allegations that she bought it for herself. you can find her at elizawrtes.uk