Crackle into morning.
Hasten your fear astray.
Outside blue doves are catching fire.
Bacon, make bacon, and live the normal light.
The strain and bob of countless decisions,
Turgid and taut along the fence
Of the girlfriend's backyard.
Fear the father call while,
Dear old mother is sprawled
Covering and smothering
The floor of your conscience:
The monster bearing the unwanted gifts:
It has no name.
Relieve crying, shame, and torment of their duty.
Catch the lighted spirit
From the quiver of telephone poles,
The flutter of crows,
The boundaries of the bows
Bound to the presents that have no receiver.
Be the believer. Be our Redeemer.
Be the sound in the deepest night,
The glow of the darkest cave,
The fly of butter that flew off the frozen animal
of our sorry, sodden, and surrendered inner landscape.
Be our Redeemer,
melt grace from our cheers.
Pour it over the dead water
We bathe, drink, and splash in.
Give our wall a name.
Push it over, and walk across.
We will follow, crackling,
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2011