light of day

she walks through the worm earth

dirt with a circus mind

 

crippling headache like a roar

of tigers

 

eats a bag of peanuts while

elephants starve

 

she watches a saw bone man fix

broken acrobats

 

who trapeze onto straw floors

 

smells a thousand miles of

rail track

 

and smoke;

 

train stations orphanages to

children

 

where Tennyson holds up

pictures

 

of fairy tales;

 

horse and buggies sit quiet

on dirt streets

 

as a circus caravan leaves

wagon wheel metal

 

marks

 

sideshow freaks a confusing

swirl of ugly

 

and bizarre

 

hookie school children watch

from behind nails

 

and crooked boards;

 

air slams on big top canvas,

inside,

 

clowns come out of cartoon

buildings,

 

horses and hoops of fire,

they jump through

like moths through a lantern

light,

 

in a gilded cage, lions pace

with memories

 

audience puts its clapping in

mason jars,

 

grocer sells on shelves next

to old cans of soup;

 

she was a high−wire performer,

slipped

 

fell to a sound of a crackerjack

box tab pull

 

her epitaph makes ash and dust

her paper

 

husband to hold, rain cries like

tears

 

stands with flowers, reads a poem,

 

“i sleep in your sounds that

call me

i swallow your voice,

your love

i forget this world and dream of

your eyes kissing me

your soul is liquid thirst in

my heart”

 

light of day paints earth,

he feels

 

her breath, her touch,

a loving silence.

 

Copyright © 05/25/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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she stood in a desperate wound

straw baskets are sown and sit by empty fireplaces
 
church preacher man writes a sunday sermon, wraps
it up in aluminum foil
 
his daughter, a beautiful thing, in love with a military
man, gets the, “we’re sorry to inform” letter
 
water from rusted pipes put in an aging kettle, set
on a stove, she waits for the slow boil
 
she watches from an old window frame, wild horses
gallop on wave edge salt
 
a wound would be required of her, morning comes in
a quiet corner of her solitude
 
leaves lie beneath her feet, she leans against bark
 
her father delivers his tedious speech, rice sits in 
brown bags impatient for a forgotten wedding
 
in a tucked away closet, a wool suit is besieged 
by moths
 
rain water wet drunkenly collects in oak, banded
barrels beneath corroded downspouts
 
she dips her silver cup in for a taste, bandages
wrapped to guise
 
her father reads letters marked personal, black
and white photos show 
 
colorless, insecure faces
 
plastic flowers planted in cemetery soil, watered
daily by her sightless eyes
 
tears absorbed by gauze bandage, changed daily,
tears changed daily
 
she is slowly dying, a congregation dies.
 
 
Copyright © 05/02/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®
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