Soldier
I am a soldier pledged to the sky, become
a sword in her blue pockets, my threadbare fatigues
a sword in her blue pockets, my threadbare fatigues
marked with the grit of worlds. I fight on
because she wears time so much better than I
and vaults the earth with her mother-colored mantle
unwavering, unchanged, uncommanded forever.
Tho Night has drawn his obsidian blade
and pierced me with his heartkiller spear, tho I
because she wears time so much better than I
and vaults the earth with her mother-colored mantle
unwavering, unchanged, uncommanded forever.
Tho Night has drawn his obsidian blade
and pierced me with his heartkiller spear, tho I
am older, diminished, my moondrops that pooled on
white grass all drunk in the sun's tarnished cup; tho
I howl my warcry unheard in the inkwell dark,
still the hole in my breast
is soft-closed with moss and silver straw
and silence that seeps out
from the green forest floor,
til dreams and signs pillow my head
and swim like sweet fish as pale as winter
through the tears on my war-stained cheeks.
I howl my warcry unheard in the inkwell dark,
still the hole in my breast
is soft-closed with moss and silver straw
and silence that seeps out
from the green forest floor,
til dreams and signs pillow my head
and swim like sweet fish as pale as winter
through the tears on my war-stained cheeks.
November 2024
posted for Word Garden Word List
Images: Portait of Maude Abrantes, 1907 ©Amadeo Modigliani Public Domain
Borage and Blue Sky, ©joyannjones
