December 16, 2012

poem 456 of a poem a day for 2012

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


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