Bring Port To The Table and Mourn

bring port to the table and mourn

on tall ships sailing through milk of wounded breast.

dull skies for dull ears as inherits the flesh of broken rib.

dark are the eyes of the shadowless sun with whispers of immortality;

 

stowaway Rats infused with confused monologue

stone of peach where lies beneath distant prayer

well hidden and trodden down with feet of naked grass

the sulking skeleton now featureless and void of temptation;

 

with silence among the ranks of the grieving sea

the touching paws of the March Hare with whistle and flute

sings in triumphant voice with the parting of Springs ways.

meek now, the wild mannered sprawl of unaccompanied despair;

 

ghosts of fish with butterbean soup and roasted jalapeno peppers

where grows the haunted fins of intolerance and upheaval.

beneath the ocean floor where hides stallions of the sea

rich pickings for the mental betrayal of insubordinate skin;

 

midnight waves from the healing hands of everlasting belief

the once blue whale now coated with an envious green.

bright now the star that shines through the vision of cloud

and bright now the eyes of entrapment and sudden grief;

 

bring port to the table

and mourn the beginning of all that is interesting.