Day of reckoning: day of abandon

in the midday street,
with the small child hands
letting the heart balloon

filled with milk and honey
lap the wind,
passing all the dream houses

where the puppet-people live
unaware, how they dwindle
laughs, kisses, blink they are gone

and forbid any flower to be
vivid at their side
or placed in an empty bottle

waiting for water, or two drops
from a tear, it is all quite clear-
the beauty, the wit, eyes shut

when the moon’s celestial onion
dangles light to prove the
night exists, it sees nothing of this

as our prayer hands stiffen with
holiness, we pray for the face of
an effigy, we pray for silence.

Copyright © 05/14/2019 lance sheridan®