Are
you the Heart’s Eye? I asked a fever, careful with
sleepers.
I
wait for it to awaken, to set a fire to this page, to attack
with
vengeance. I want to speak to the grime of life, but
hell
isn’t up for auditions. More important, we prevent
from
harm, to coddle souls, fully for detriment; and still,
a
watchful tower, to guide foot-grails through the shadows.
We
love less a night of goblins, to perish in your honor,
weaving
through nightfall. It’s a feral ball, streamed with
fire,
to explode on impact. It’s a pause for a cigar to
whisper
your name. Days have flourished a mindset: you’re
low
on energy; and strong with tension; to paint the sky in
burgundy.
I near a volcano, to spin a tornado, a gift for a
weeping
cry. You opt for distance to grieve the winds
content
with teabags. I’m storm for coffee, and stressing
weeds,
a magnet for discolor. (You send me to that place.)
I’m
there in your absence, to ponder emotions, to waver in
silence.
I knit through glass, to pound on wood, to witness
iron
walls; but never a kiss—this want; and never for love—
this
grain; for why is absent, an inner motion, sailing high
seas.
I
go from you to rain knee high in gravel contemplating
mercy.
The graph is so vivid, sprinkled with Chardonnay.
Hearts
are shooting dice. Skylights are given hope. A world
is
drifting through goodbyes. I’m still a bit split, cleaving
to
ideals, relaxed enough to conjure an image. There’s a
stench
near to pass, where a poetess reaches in—to extract
a
diamond. How did we get here: strangers of a city? I
couldn’t
find you last year. You were near a Savannah,
rinsed
in bones and cartilage. This is metaphor, and here’s
for
simile: I feel you as one feels new shoes; and ever for
strangers,
a continent apart.
Are
you a Heart’s Eye?
