The Iris of Blue
A burning suggests your home choked a Burroughs heart!
Stars, swirling the deadly smoke,
And under covers, later, you find,
A dreaming child.
And while the plastic fruit melted,
And as your heart strings fell through,
And you utter: “This was never meant...”
Her glimmering eyes openend,
In a Iris of blue.
How cruel are those tools of the wise?
Becoming as the oceans to spread their false skies,
Tearing at rainbows, the reds torn from the rind,
This one book of blue,
In black, now to bind...
And as the lick of the fingers, turns at the first
Your straining hand, falls, calm to its verse...
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