The fireworks were over,
our black sky smoking quietly,
not blowing hot or cold, our
backwoods path rutted, sharp-edged
words poking between polished
gems, fashioned to skip thoughts across
our waiting pond stocked for phishing,
those days grew long sweating out
sunny words while ducking reality,
you feeding greedily on honeyed: yes,
please, thank you for saving me.
Staring into sulphuric shadows,
a red-hot sparkling last dance;
the glowing scythe rising high,
gone golden, piercing the naked hour
when even bulls stop croaking and
cattails go silent in the gloaming;
a screech-owl roaming, she swoops
down to catch a runner, brown-white,
bleeding it for her young.
we’ve come undone.
words have turned pages red;
sheets twisted, bedroom battle field,
God gave us sleep for peace;
angry words will only conjure
bitter dreams thick with black
tar that sticks to white soles
soiling, holding, no escaping
the hollow bullet turned sharp
blade,a willfully worded weapon
for cutting down;
until that fog laced day awakes
a whisper: a soothing song
replacing the shouting drum:
imagine; abandon; a new run -
unhook those rusted chains,
attach these gossamer wings,
then find a cliff and step;
I promise, the life to write
has just begun.
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submitted to OSP…all poetry welcome, follow link.
