Out of the Sun
Stayed in the sun too long today.
My skin became like the bark of a tree.
The soul was turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
My face is a pile of old owl bones.
Sewn into banks of midnight creeks.
Even the plain and plump ones no longer look at me...
If their tires were flat, or their oil grim reaper black.
they'd manage a water-colored smile...
So long as I could change their brakes and spin the jack...
So, I spin it until their potholes turn to satin.
Stayed in the sun too long today.
The mind has smoothed like pebbles in Saturn's rings.
A forgotten spice in the conversation of life.
A Sunday bell that's lost its holy ring.
Tomorrow I'll stay wrapped tight inside.
Until my skin turns back to ivory.
To an easter egg yesterday.
A time of bouncing ball and spinning jacks.
When the mind was a great silky nest.
When the face was a flowered meadow place.
Where watercolors swirled all day,
Every heartworm kept at bay.
Like a hungry muskie, I'll stay hidden within the weeds,
'till the jewels of memories soothe every scar and every stripe.
Till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
Until then, only my curtains will breathe...
...stayed in the sun
to long
today.
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