Come To Me As a Poem
Come To Me As A Poem
The days of thunder in the cane fields
gone...
lightning strikes on the flat, brown flesh of
earth rushing through the green breaks
and out,
leaving the earth chattering.
Come to me as a mandrake searching
wildly/
through the night air for its mate.
Come to me as human lava and living sea
swells,
desirous swords clashing.
Day and night merge in the twilight
tailings of /
the two and may not come exactly the
same way
again so defy waiting with its still, cold
hands and...
Come to me as a poem...
Come to me as a poem with wild, moist
eyes and --
open, frenzied palms filled with wild
flowers and self
liberated dahlias, a poem brave in the face
of its own
worth and passion.
Come to me like the taste of the cassava
of poems/
the plaintain of poems, the flowing red
embers of poems.
Many are the words of a poem that have
no one looking for
them.
But, look, here I am poemas after poemas
of you in my
palms, a canter of every vowel and
constants you have spoken
to me, every word you have written.
Come to me as a body of poems, fold into
my arms as what/
one needs to say to others.
Purple honey in your going, purple honey
in the poem
of your wise arriving yet again.
Copyright © Romella Kitchens | Year Posted 2014
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