What
for life through love to scar, “I love you.” Something
so
social buried beneath debris. We want for silence to
offend
nature. I found you sipping sorrow, as fluffy as a
rabbit’s
tail. I watched you morph through happiness to the
detriment
of soul. How for something so personal to find
its
grave in marshy swamps? We shared meals, played
footsies,
and bore witness to growth. I’m want to
understand
such social injustice, where right is for wrong,
as
is wrong is for right. Two persons come together as
fluidly
as rivers to seas. They die a double death, healing
while
forging new love. The one gives just as fervently as
if
the other. Its new items of kitsch, florid clothing, a
wealth
of clueless participation, where darkness strikes a
blow.
One is without means of explanation, where the other
ignores
the scars of, “I love you.” Seasons turn into horrors,
where
silence is paraded over nature. We can’t but cling to a
life-vest,
but time should be afforded to healing, even
reconciling
differences; else for death, melted in grudges, for
earth
to give up the ghost. We wanted for blue-jays, violins,
a
heart beating organs. We sought for jasper wines, for mantel
trophies,
for catbird cries. Our garden consisted of painted
daisies,
scarecrow figures, even passion flowers. We perish
without
honor, to search for ransoms, to restore a thwarted
pride.
What for begonias to bud upon souls to find comfort
where
the lotus blooms? I touched a blazing star, warm to
earth
the Ghost gave breath to bleeding hearts. I ,here, retract
pen
to pad to plant a candytuft, where muddy lakes coddle roots.
