Monday, February 25, 2013
Take off your mukluks, then your skin.
The sky silvers above your hair,
The sky here is white where once it was black,
the horizon like a skull going bald.
He nestles his wand where the jinni were,
who left their magic home to be pleasured.
He says you may do what you wish,
he’s as close to you as he’ll ever be.
After you’ve walked, he strolls where the sun is.
If he keeps going, he’ll never go back
until dark falls between his paired shoulders.
A dream of love cannot be love itself.
So many years learning to love,
gone crazy by this current condition,
like a bird landing on a wire
with both feet and that way staying alive.
Much like nothing else you would know
if the hourglass tipped and the sand
sifted down again, this time with his rain
falling inside your sweet valleys
where nothing is barren but does not grow.
(25 February 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander