the midday sun dims
as the Director orders up a scrim
for the key light.
“two stops please.”
the air begins to diffuse.
the light is not quite right.
leaves fall out of focus
like skin viewed through hallucinigen.
the black ball inches forward
at thousands of miles per hour
nearly reaching totality,
but misses.
like a dart at double twenty
the star will not be blotted out.
not today.
not from here.
|
a coincidence divine.
light skin,
dark skin,
moonlit skin,
dancing on a whim.
my skin,
your skin,
equal skin,
familiar human kin.
our skin,
their skin,
divided skin,
worn to razor thin.
|
heart skin,
soul skin,
inner skin,
surmounting speechless sin.
|
all skin,
valued skin,
loved skin,
merging in the wind.
my true self
trapped.
molten bars blockade
belief.
spillway arteries
and valves stuck at top dead center,
choking on the oil of malaise.
stretching.
straining.
unable to rearrange,
or reengage.
|
will You make me stronger,
tomorrow?
festering worm.
wiggling from room to room
in the mansion of my soul.
slithering through mud holes,
leaving sludge in every tunnel.
|
where is the janitor?
asleep in his chair.
|
lovely growth.
meticulously moving,
pushing windows open,
escaping to air,
and climbing towards shine.
|
where is the Vinedresser?
stuck in traffic.
pour that sack of milk
down his rotten gullet.
you do it so sweetly,
so sincere.
grab that myrtle rod
topped with weighted death.
you do it so silently,
full of courage.
hold fast that pointed peg
that lusts for blood.
you do it with cunning,
trusting your strength.
|
smash his face
with hammer and nail.
bursting brains.
spewing secrets.
killing hate.
you do it with love,
unconditional.
|
strong woman,
you bring peace.
my fingers anchored in my hair.
my forehead stretching toward
the Temple.
you took my peace.
my moment.
my rest.
re-erupting my heart
to noise.
the disjointed wreckage of self.
It eludes me now.
The Tiny Gift is gone.
if only It could return
for a nano second.
|
a moment longer than the first.