feed me words
from your quicksilver tongue
let them drip
into my dusty throat
and down the chin of longing
gritty life
shape-shifting into desert
thirst unslaked
the sand in my shell mouth
never becoming pearls
by the lamp
of a full Thunder Moon
I wrote this storm
with lightning bolts
dipped in wells of rain
the ripened grain
flattened by grasshoppers and hail
a punished prairie
cowers beneath the sun's closed fist
and we all fall down
silver-zippered river
binding earth's frayed edges
to ocean
we paddle among sea wolves
singing the salted sky
a raining sun
bathes the burning bush
in our garden
scattering embers
into the liquidity of light
layers
of this blue life
winnowed
by the hourglass
my furrows deepen
No comments:
Post a Comment