x marks the spot

this is where my treasure slid hid bidding to be part of the rain's dowry 
I was once an I am kind of person but then a series of broken hearts 
and rejections later has turned me towards a path of curmudgeon-ess 
maybe if boiled I'd taste like dungeness crab or blue crab 
with onions and potatoes in a spicy lemon roiled 
spilled over a long picnic table-covered in 
newspaper sewing me me me inside each dream 
each breath it seems seams me kite-sides 
rudely riding the wind bit and bridle its teeth 
to carve me fingers bones 
hides tanneries and canneries rows shelves mason jars
 catching the Sun when afternoon gets in 
and you find yourself remembering what once was 
cause and effect affection dereliction of duty subtle assignment of role 
needs bleeding as if we 
poem and I, were meant 
to be lepers with dented cups 
jangling for alms 
palms the hand knows 
sews in again this time silk embroidery 
and the tool shed beat downs 
I've fought me many times 
and will fight again 
when it rains 
and there is no warm place to begin again 
don't you know me by now, universe 
I am that old soul that rabbit hole that burl wood box 
Pandora kept opening and closing 
thinking it was a toy  
I am forever testing the resolve of those 
who dare love me 
and this would set me on course 
for a lonely truth filled world 
where I wait for the monuments of stone 
inside my soul to be ground down 
beach combing me at low tides 
as the Sun is setting and I am getting off 
crawling my broken pieces 
trying to figure out 
how to feel 
art from artifice 
what is real 
and not so much 
an unraveling 
of myself 

 EJR ©