October 1, 2012

poem 357 of a poem a day for 2012

we drink throatily

do we stand
at the water's edge
just to look
and not to drink
I think not
by the very nature
of our composition
we are salt,
water and iron
and we are meant
to be here
burning ourselves
into the rain
that the leaves
are weighted with
as Autumn falls

gravity fingers time
turning sand into glass
and back again
so all our insides
are in the jars
we seal to keep ourselves
wanting to open doors
in the dark
with little pulls
and clicks of joy
that one incandescent
light bulb can bring
when hungry
and thirsty
and wanting to sing


No comments:

Post a Comment