The Chloroform Clouds


The Chloroform Clouds

Here in Wellington two days before Christmas,

The sun kisses geometric rooftops,

And slides its fingers down my back,

Like a master masseuse.


Everything seems harbour blue–

The sky, the sea, my eyes–

And I wonder what palate

God was working from today,

And whether these sea grey irises

Were designed for the moment.


When I was a child

It was a cosmic mystery,

Glancing at cotton clouds—

And wondering at string,

And Jazz parties in the midst of them.


Now young,


I know the science,

But I wish.


I wish for somber saxophones,

Smooth sliding bass,

And to rest amongst

The chloroform clouds.

© Iain Sutherland, 2013.
Header Image: click here

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