to the summers of the trees
how did I die?
how when,
when came the shifting of the starburn
-when winter shed it's leaves-
gave it's eyes to the daylight of the shapeless night
the twilight of the days final dream
sleeping with the insects of the fable heart
when Florence came and wept
crept silent through the parting of the oars blush
when death no longer dream nor bitten doubt
when love no longer borrowed second chance;
to the summers of the whispered chords
how did she die?
how when
when tingled her waters on my trapped hands
-when fire flickered and crawled-
did her undressed lips caress my silent soul
run naked through the spine of my trees
baptize my captured heat.
carried like a child
a godess to my secrets wild
when breathless drunk to the rapture of her lust
when love no longer begged a second chance;
to the summers rain forgotten
how did I die?
and when
did I wander and blind the sacred heart?
why I, the fool, the drool of stubborn chin
fall cautious to the winds most treasured breeze.
so dark my aging tenderness
my caged heart. my ragged bones recluse;
now a creature to the comforts of seclusion
look long and hard for the blue tipped sparrows wing
watch him down his one last cigarette
and smoke one final gin;
- Author: Melvin James (Pseudonym) ( Online)
- Published: August 7th, 2021 16:41
- Comment from author about the poem: to you, ''Florence'' Nightingale House;
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
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