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Ode To the Myrrh Tree
So the tree stood in the centre of the desert
mangled by winds of change and truth of joy
chains of dust and torrents of rare rain
Burnt black and senseless by an
unrelenting Sun of nightmare beauty
orange was the sand of scorpions
orange was the mirage of miracles
orange was her veil of innocence
As the tree stank of heavenly myrrh
itched to pour its oil over orange
nippled breasts and buttocks
stroke curves and carves
of luminous beauty with its
ancient branches of stony bark
as beetles made holy love in its
crevices of dark deep velvet depth
And the mangled magic of the myrrh
stood short and stumped and watched
the breath of a timeless desert
slow movements of noble camels
with long thick lashes speaking of
magnificent slowness in the lick of lick
a lip in a lip
Tree of a thousand loves
sprinklings in sparkles spaced
over a tent of chiffon on sand
slithering with patterned serpents
and eyes of dark magic, of long
limbs all in One
twine and twine and grow together
as all become One
with myrrh and magic
heavy beads of sweat and
amber laugh and scream
Moments of a tree of ugly love
as ugly melts into vacant beauty
irresistible wordless wrinkles ageless
Deep furrows of sweet scent
sent desert creatures weeping
to smiling stars as a tree of life
stood stock still to imbibe
eternal myrrh itself
Copyright ©
Ghairo Daniels
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