poem 190 of a poem a day for 2012

paper, pencil and wine

I squint

bleeding held Summer

in the Sun’s disguises

the air is so warm

it dares the smoothest

needle entry of every sin

my skin likes

the myriad folds

of vines in ever-static-bloom

I consume

as a hungry mouth does

with no stomach

to stop my appetite

I am a heady macabre

a knob turning

nursery rhyme

in which time is

the oldest god

in the mirror that

says sit still Edward

and ponder me

while I wander

with you

until you crawl again

to a birth portal

where another mother

will wait to say

I am your ripe whelping

I am another helping of your will

your personalities and disorders

that brim with what you distill

ignorance into shade with

I am a light transmuted into eyes

with a desire to erase

the smell of memory

in every over-eager moment

you tremble wait with  

for the next great thing

one after another

selling down river

the scent of every

brother, sister,

father , mother

searing a brand

of comfort caged

from the melted wax

forming your hands

you congeal a rage for what

reveals the way

you play God and Goddess

because Edward

you have no patience

for wooden pews

and those hues

between I and we

and the injustice of  

cleaning muddy feet

with the intentions

of putting shoes back on

so as not to feel

the silt gold between toes

and each way

your wants comes a-waving

EJR ©