The whole subsuming
mackerel smelling abyss:
with a few words I can unmake it,
change it to a wine-rich wave’s warm kiss
let the disconjunctive dark forsake it.
But when the neon tide comes rolling in
the bloated bodies float and the gulls scream
and there’s the sharp swift pierce of a bone pin,
heart nail pounded in a dream within a dream
Kaleidoscopic lenses bend
the light, red icestones throb beneath the unquiet lid.
Greensick invaders pulse, fluoresce on the march.
Alien guerillas the cortex can’t forbid
blow the bridge and deconstruct the arch.
A turn of the wrist and everything goes black,
the limbs arrest, the sutures come undone.
The hands spin round but the hours can’t fall back
to that which was so ardently begun.
The colors change and change, without an end.
Posted for Magpie Tales #63
Uncredited photo provided by Magpie Tales removed.
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