No Heart on Hand

no heart on hand

for evermore tarantula.

brave as wood

smoking like a snail;

 

long past beyond to furthermore

as cryptic spell,

mirrored by a gaslight,

reflecting both,

mood rhetoric.

prophecy of chance;

 

stuffed with straw,

one belly-laugh away from soil to thunder.

be gone with you

cloudless grey

patched and heaven sent.

I have no third eye to pleasure or torment;

 

walk tightrope with me

above the oil where swims our treasured map,

horse-drawn and quartered.

now thirteen segments

blind as honeycomb;

take me away.

 

 from this. and this.

of this and all beside.

from mans machine to the walnut bride,

as cracked as I am stubborn.

shy as salt 

pale as linen hanging from a lie;

 

no heart on hand;

how can this be?

too much I feel

I cannot understand;