Likenesses
This body that I am now forced to own
once was a glove for desiring hands, and
a hand for the warm fitting-rooms of strangers.
I am an owner of derelict houses.
their roofs and walls unrecognizable
In the harsh light of a dawn mirror.
Parts of this ‘me’ still are affixed
to the pages of put-away scrapbooks
albums of disinherited images
Once upon-a-time forms
now lay buried in fallow fields
memorial plots,
visited by ailing angels
that keep alive transient likenesses
in shoeboxes of heavenly haunts.
Looking at this that I have become
I wonder what part I played
In the ruination of my castle keep,
what parts the attrition of decades
have reduced a temple
into a place where seagulls
fight for scapes in a perishing landscape?
Let grace be my life-raft,
let the young be my saviors,
but of course any rescue now
must be only a weakening gesture,
a fist shaken at the unchanging stars.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
