Out of the Sun
Stayed
in the sun
to long
today
The skin became like the bark of a tree.
The soul 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 plump, over ripened ones no longer look at me...
If their tires were desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black.
they'd manage to paint a wormy, water colored smile...
Slide it through my barbed wired heart.
So long as I could spin the jack...
So I spin it until their potholes turn to satin.
Stayed
in the sun
to long
today
The mind has smoothed over like pebbles in Saturn rings.
A forgotten spice in the conversation of life.
An hour later the word snuggles up to me-laughingly.
Tomorrow or forever(whichever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside.
Until my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack.
When the mind was a great silky nest.
The face a flowered meadow place.
Where watercolors swirled all day,
the heart worms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the weeds,
till the jewels of memories soothe
every scar - every stripe.
The molten knots of cruelty.
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
Until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
to long
today.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2013
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