Saturnalia,
I am pondering every bit of you
I
roam between
what
the words mean
I
wonder and wander into each
English language difference
between
consume and womb
all
its phonetic limbs
its
dozing Sunday sermons
its
street corner learning
it
is all a drunken gaze
a
candle flicker of the snow
a
peel of the longest dark day
into
a pursed kiss
into
a light
of
a sharp thin Dawn
each
of my desires
is
geometric Winter nearing
it
is a purity beyond
any
reason to say no
water
knows human desire
is
the most sacred of bows
each
surrender baskets a weave
and
you Goddess
on
my lips
prowl
where midnight ripens
and
the thirst of sand melts time
you
call for answers in glass
and
I just look for pieces
that
no one wants and ache
a
torment of myself getting past
what
the audience might say
this
is what the poet seeks
a
value more than flesh
wide
hips and soft skin for me
to
peek gold in panned sluice
along
fertile black river bends
it
is the circular devotion
it
is every ocean
it
is the reason why
I
torture myself
in tides and fire
it
is why I lie
about
the beauty of cool
my
skin melts too
beckoning
reason into reflection
but
my bones are still cages
that
remember who I am
despite
my ability to sing
as
if I were born to be
a
sparrow, wren or mockingbird
EJR
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