Adam Fieled (Logan Square, Philadelphia, USA): "Mobiles"

It’s company of flesh and blood
I need, your blonde head beneath,
pillows scattered around us like
confetti, memories of loneliness
suddenly quaint as “thou,” our
voices in the air like hung mobiles—
then, all the thousands of words left
behind in throats overtaken by cries,
grateful awe before near (dear) extinction.
But you are not here, you’ve become just
a lack, something scrawled on a series
of sheets, useful only to tell me that
words have holes in them where nothing fits—
wind moves the mobiles past position articulation.

© Adam Fieled 2009-2026