how
o how do moons deceive the dusk
one breath from gone to there …
like tapestries with Guipure lace
stained soft with blue … and bare?
o how should I yet mourn the day
with what blooms east-to-west …
a vault with colored bib and stars
bright jewels to grace its breast?
o how does spindrift wend its way
to span such breadths of tide …
its toes a-dancing brine-top breaks
while black, those depths abide?
o how can hearts not blossom bright
when childrens’ laughs abound …
to heal the hopeless, broken souls
through noise of sweetest sound?
o how can promise, given when
impassioned flesh thus flow’rs …
hold strong against a yearn of years
those truths that change devours?
o how could she then bind me tight
those oaths she spurned herself …
hope’s garland left to gather dust
shunned with’ring ‘pon her shelf?
o how can simple words compel
the coursings, deep our blood …
or stain a page in wisdom, sage
shape statues grand, from mud?
o how can we keep children safe
from monsters ‘neath their beds
when evil’s face is commonplace
masked false with love instead?
and how should I find loves to fill
these holes thrust thru my heart
if that dear cost of what I’ve lost
has ripped these bones … apart?
o please … where should I start?
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 30, 2024
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2024
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