Placebo Pink

placebo pink as pretty as a fly

now sings my torso happy as a plum.

these gates that shield november from my skull

never open to persuasion for diminishing response

am too alike the privacy of entity and church

where each prayer bends and flickers on a face

in tandem with the image of a dirge.

 

direct my way your image not by sight

exorcise my anger from the pillows of the sun

sing sweet nostalgia pumping blood 

through he of earth to he of common trial.

 

thirty years of silver standing still

evenings' hill sprouts wings of pulse

flying through the matter to a dome of gray, as I

a scarecrow in a field of pigeon's skin.

 

am haunted by the senseless squeals

from a cabbage in a jar

as a herd of throats glide endless on my crotch.

there are too many holes to hide

my photographs of serum for my carpet vipers burn.

 

placebo pink as pretty as a fly

that shines my hue and helps me walk a mile

to where my brood of glitter knows no bounds

on communal grounds where the weathers cannot spy: