Out of the Sun
Stayed in the sun too long today.
My 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 ones no longer look at me...
If their tires were flat, or oil grim reaper black.
they'd manage a water-colored smile...
So long as I could 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.
Tomorrow I'll stay wrapped inside.
Until my skin turns back to ivory.
To an easter egg yesterday
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 heartworms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the weeds,
till the jewels of memories soothe
every scar - every stripe.
Till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
Until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
to long
today.
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